Lust and Fame
by Angel Leviathan
Summary: Atlantis AU. It might look great on stage, but it’ll leave you wondering what’s going to happen when the lights go down.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Lust and Fame

**Author:** Angel Leviathan

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer:** Stargate Atlantis, characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.

**Notes:** AU fic featuring the characters of Atlantis. Inspired by the song 'After the Lights'.

* * *

He was lying with his head jammed under his pillow, sprawled across his bed, when he heard his mobile start to ring with a volume he was sure had to be illegal for that time in the morning. Muttering a curse, he reluctantly looked out from under the pillow, across at the digital clock on his bedside table. Said clock had received a smashing earlier when it had dared to wake him at some god forsaken time in the morning, but somehow still offered him the time, blinking red seconds back at him. Afternoon. It was afternoon. Since when was it afternoon? Last he had known it was ten in the morning. Actually, last he had known, he had happily been letting some pretty young woman seduce him, but he was sure that was another story…when he remembered it all. He swore again as his phone insisted it wanted attention, and he picked it up with a deep suffering sigh, "…Hello?" 

"_John? John, its me."_

"Hello, me," he croaked.

"…_Are you still in bed?" _the voice demanded.

He yawned, "I might be."

"_You are. Get up, you lazy beggar, I don't work my fingers to the bone trying to find you work just to have you drink and sleep your free time away."_

"'Free' time. My time. Time for me," John mumbled, "Time when I'm not somebody else."

"_Well its time to be somebody else again, John. I managed to get you that part in that new London production, via your video audition. So get up and start packing, the play starts in four weeks and you're due for rehearsal the day after tomorrow. Actually, you're due at another play tomorrow evening, but I'll get to that later."_

"Get to it now," he muttered, rolling onto his side and resting his phone on his ear, closing his eyes.

"_I thought it might be interesting for you to see your leading lady at work in her latest production before you start work together," _his agent began.

"…Who is it?" he was half asleep already.

"_Elizabeth Weir."_

"Elizabeth who?"

"_Elizabeth Weir. How can you not know who she is? Call yourself an artist?"_

"I call myself a performer," John sighed, "Anyway, Elizabeth Weir?"

"_She's being hailed as one of the best performers of her generation. She's in high demand. Be grateful you're getting to work with her."_

He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow, "I'm doing the happy dance."

"_You better well be. People would kill to be in your position. Actually, people would kill for your role alone, so don't screw it up!"_

"Nice to know I have your complete faith."

His agent's voice softened, _"…You do, John, you know that. You're damn fine actor and I'm proud to represent you. But do yourself a favour…"_

"…And that would be?" he sprawled back across the bed.

"_Get your arse here to London, sharpish! Tickets already booked online, just pack and hand in your passport. You'll be in the UK for four months at least. I've got you a flat to stay in. Not saying you wont be able to get back home, but do _me_ a favour?"_ her voice held a note of long suffering.

"…Yeah?"

"_Don't be a typical man and just throw everything into a case!"_

_

* * *

_He didn't listen, of course. One hastily packed case, redirected answer-phone message, plane flight and glance around his 'new' apartment later, horrifically jet-lagged and dying for a drink, he found himself just over two hours into the latest and greatest London stage production. He hadn't even checked the title, just the theatre, and the ticket he had found on his kitchen table upon arrival had been accepted, so he had few complaints. Aside from the jet-lag and craving for a cold beer. 

But his agent had been right. She was good. Damn good. And live performance after life performance, day after day, that was hard to maintain. She did it well. …Almost too well. John was suddenly very much aware that he had been paying very little attention to the play itself and more attention to the study of who was soon to be his co-star. He realised that, once he met this Elizabeth Weir, he'd have very little time to study her when she wasn't aware of his presence. She was giving one hell of a final performance…the intensity almost scared him; would every performance with her be so stressful? She seemed to carry it off with ease, he was sure he couldn't do the same. Then again, she was on stage…and they were all different people on stage. Rarely let anyone see past the image they projected.

John blinked and tried to re-focus, jet-lag returning with a vengeance. Coffee. Coffee or beer. Either. Both. Soon. Preferably sleep, but he suspected that wasn't going to be an option. The final scene left her collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Very convincingly. As the curtain fell, he stood, not to applaud with the rest of the audience, but to escape the crowds and try and get a closer look at the stage he'd be working on for the next few months.

Problems with authority. That's what they'd said he had. So he'd left the USAF Academy honourably, before they got ideas about booting him out. It was his instructors who had suggested the stage. Said they were never sure what they were getting with him, whether they knew the young man in their charge at all, whether he would be capable of following orders to the letter when it came to it. If they couldn't see past his mask, they couldn't trust him entirely. And couldn't put their faith in him. Could take direction, they said, but not orders.

He charmed his way backstage, introducing himself as their new leading man, eager to start and eager to learn a new role through and through. The stage manager, who introduced himself as Rodney McKay, was hardly impressed with his attempts, but was distracted enough arguing with a peer, whom John noted had a lilting foreign accent, for him to escape. What he didn't know was that he was being subtlety observed the whole time.

"John Sheppard, I presume?" a strong female voice questioned.

He started at the voice, but turned round slowly to find the source, as if he had all the time in the world. There stood Elizabeth Weir, clad in jeans and a loose fitting shirt, leaning against the back wall, arms folded, slight smile on her face. He nodded once, silently.

She pushed off from the wall, walking toward him, "Elizabeth Weir," she offered him her hand.

John shook it, "I can see why they're calling you the best," he stated.

She smiled in a self depreciating manner, "Maybe for now. Not for long, I suspect," Elizabeth took a step back, "So, you're my new leading man?"

"So they say," he shot her a grin.

She nodded several times, looking him up and down, "I look forward to working with you," she glanced at her watch, frowning for a moment, before she looked back at him, "…I could do with a drink."

"Do you do mind reading too?"

"On my off days," Elizabeth smiled, "Care to join me?"

He frowned, "Don't you have some huge cast party to go to? Or don't they do it over here like we do at home?"

She laughed softly, "Oh they do. Sometimes even better," she checked her watch again, "Yes, I do. And I said I'd attend," she raised an eyebrow, "But seeing as you're next in line to the stage, I doubt anybody would begrudge you a seat at the table. And if we're both still standing afterward, then I'll take you up on that drink."

John grinned again, "I thought _you_ asked _me_ for a drink."

She grabbed a piece of paper from her back pocket, noting the name of the restaurant and time, "I thought _you_ might turn out to be a gentleman," Elizabeth walked right past him, pressing the piece of paper into his hand, smiling faintly, "We'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

He was somewhat glad that the meal turned out to be rather informal, considering he had been convinced he was going to get lost on the way back to his apartment and never make it back to the restaurant if he went back for a change of clothes. When he finally made it to the restaurant, he was half an hour late, and looking a little lost as he glanced round, trying to locate somebody he could recognise. Which, John realistically thought, was really only two people in a crowded restaurant. Three if he was lucky. As it was, after a few minutes of trying to blend in, checking his phone a couple of times to look as if he had a purpose, he looked back up to find Elizabeth standing up at one of the tables, one hand in the air, trying to attract his attention. And still wearing her jeans and shirt, so he was relieved he wasn't going to be jumped upon by a group of strangers for inappropriate dress. He wandered over, cautiously, and greeted her at the table.

"So, you found us then?" she joked.

"After playing connect the dots on those tube line maps like a five year old I was all set," he answered, as he shot her a half grin.

"Who's this?" somebody down the table piped up.

"John Sheppard," he introduced himself.

"I know you," the stage manager he'd met earlier looked up at him, "You thought it was a brilliant idea to sneak backstage. You know how many people we had to deal with after you pulled your little stunt?"

"Oh, leave it Rodney," Elizabeth shook her head.

"And you wonder why you've alienated half the cast by the end of a run!" the man opposite him exclaimed.

"Oh yes, very funny, Zelenka, very witty, you should do a one man show."

"I would, as long as I had a contract signed in blood that you wouldn't be within a hundred mile radius of the production!"

John frowned, edging a step closer to Elizabeth, "…Feeling the love here…" he mumbled.

"There're always like this-"

"You know, you're very unpleasant when you're like this, McKay," Zelenka glared across the table.

"You've told me that frequently."

"Gentlemen!" she raised her voice, "Is there any chance that Mr Sheppard could possibly get a good impression of us before we start work and he learns the truth?" she turned back to John, "There should be a seat here somewhere. A couple, actually, we're still waiting on the new girl."

"She's not coming!" another voice stated.

Elizabeth reclaimed her seat, gesturing for him to sit down in one of the spares a few chairs away, "She's not coming?" she frowned.

"Her flight was delayed."

"Oh, I see."

John glanced around the crowded table, "…New girl?"

"Teyla Emmagan," a young woman with long strawberry blonde hair replied, "Said like 'Taylor', you know, the guys who design suits and all that. Spelt T-E-Y-L-A. Lord knows why," she shrugged, "This is meant to be her big break. But so help me if she isn't here by tomorrow, I'll be onto her agent faster than you can say 'understudy'," she shot him a feral grin, "Laura Cadman, by the way. Public Relations. And general kicker of ass," she teased.

"How she ended up with Carson is beyond me," somebody mumbled, "Poor guy wouldn't hurt a fly."

She laughed, "I'd hurt it for him."

"Do we want some more bottles of wine?" Elizabeth questioned. A series of affirmative responses greeted her ears, "Ridiculous question. Alcoholics, the lot of you."

"You said you wanted a drink earlier," John reminded her, smirking.

She shot him a mock glare, "Yes, but we don't tell _them_ that."

"I like this guy already," Laura grinned.

"Well," Rodney stood up, "I suppose this is the time when I make another speech."

"Wait, wait, wait," a woman with long, tinted, hair, held up a hand, "Give me a second."  
"To do what?" he exclaimed.

"Set my watch to wake me in a couple of hours," Bessie folded her arms and grinned across at him, eyes softening the jibe.

"I think I may die of laughter," McKay muttered.

"There's always hope."

"Anyway, moving on from the pleasantries," he continued, "The last six months have been…"

"Stressful!"

"Bloody annoying!"

"Exhausting!"

"Frustrating!"

"Interesting to say the least," he made a point of ignoring his peers, "They didn't think we were going to pull this one off, and we did. I say we show them we can do it again. Except maybe less with the disregarding everything I say."

"Aw, come on, Rodney, you know we love you really," Laura raised her glass.

"We did it and we showed them exactly what we can do. A lot of this is due to the time a certain leading lady put in even when she was supposed to be on her off hours…"

"Sleeping," Zelenka put in.

Elizabeth smiled and hung her head, feigning shame.

"But no, seriously, everybody…you're only going to hear this once. You were brilliant. There, I've said it, revel it in whilst you can," Rodney picked up his glass, "So, I would like to make a toast…to the theatre…and to us."

"To the theatre!" she raised her glass and touched it with his, as everybody else proceeded to do the same, with some near smashing of glasses due to over enthusiasm.

"And to the hours of rehearsal ahead of us!" he finished.

John frowned, "…How many hours a day do we do here?" he asked the person beside him.

"Eight," he answered, "Ten if we're struggling with a scene. Then its two performances a day for four months," he grimaced, "I'm Lorne, glad to meet you."

"Glad to be here…" he didn't add '_and back in work_'. John paused, "So…let's say eight hours a day, including weekends, three hours per performance, two hours prep for each one…that's…one thousand, one hundred and sixteen hours of gainful employment."

"Hey, he can calculate faster than you, McKay," Bessie taunted.

John stared at the table, mentally cursing. He wasn't here to show he had once been a math geek. Now closet math geek. So what if he could calculate faster than most people were able? It hadn't ever helped him. And that was a part of his life he wanted to put behind him.

"A man of hidden talents," Elizabeth said softly, making eye contact only briefly.

He rewarded her with a small smile, one that was clearly fake and didn't reach his eyes. He'd gone strangely quiet.

She made a mental note not to broach the subject again. At least, not any time soon.

* * *

Three hours later found them wandering the streets of London, having been practically thrown out of the restaurant, after ordering 'enough drinks to fill the local pool' as one waiter had put it. Elizabeth smiled faintly as she lunged to stop Rodney from meeting with the pavement, wondering how he'd ever make it to first glance at the script in the morning. Then again, it might be more relaxing to not have him there, throwing himself into the mechanics of the production with more enthusiasm and ego than most could cope with first thing in the morning. 

"Rodney McKay, what would people say if they found you on the doorstep to your home tomorrow morning?" she teased.

"Get off my doorstep, your house is the next one over," John quipped.

She laughed and shook her head, unable to hide a smile. She'd already said most of her goodbyes, so she gave Rodney a slight shove, tipping him against Bessie, "Make sure he gets home okay?" she asked.

"Sure thing," Bessie slurred, not much better off than her charge, "Zelenka would leave 'im on the streets."

"I resent that remark," the technician mumbled, swaying slightly, "I would leave him in a skip…"

Elizabeth smiled again, "Have fun, children. I'll see you all in the morning. We did good," she turned away and caught up a couple of paces with John, "Goodnight!" she called over her shoulder, receiving a drunken chorus in return.

They broke away from the group, as she checked her watch and then the name of the street, whilst he wandered along beside her, staring up at the sky.

John glanced across at her, "How are you not drunk?"

"As long as it looks like you're keeping up, why drink more than you have to?" she raised her eyebrows and shot him a half grin, "Want me to take you up on that drink, or do I have to angle for an invite?"

"I think you should angle for an invite," he taunted.

"I think we should go for a coffee," she said, drawing her leather coat more tightly around her, "I know a great twenty-four hour place."

"For the invite to the getting-thrown-out-of-a-restaurant-for-being-too-rowdy-party, I'll even buy you a coffee," John answered.

"Well," she mimicked the smirk she had seen him sport to the letter, "Maybe you _are_ a gentleman after all."

* * *

"So, you've read the script, I take it?" Elizabeth took a sip of her latte. 

They were seated in the window of a modern London coffee-bar, watching the world go by, in a strangely comfortable silence before she spoke.

"Skimmed it," John admitted, "Found a copy of it on the kitchen table in my new apartment. I suspect my agent will use the fact that she has a set of keys to her advantage."

"Flat," she corrected, absently.

He frowned, "Flat what?"

"Its called a flat over here. Not an apartment. You live in a flat."

"And you live in a mansion?" he smiled.

She shook her head, "I live in a flat. Rented."

"…But surely you've got the money…I mean, people are flocking to see you. Stampede style. So I hear," he didn't dare admit that he'd hardly heard of her before his agent had phoned him.

Elizabeth made a gesture not unlike a shrug, "I suppose I have the money. But I won't, one day, so I'd rather hang onto it and know I have enough to live on later," she took another sip of her coffee, "I wont be famous all my life. This is my fifteen minutes. None of us will be in the spotlight all our lives. I'm lucky to be where I am today."

"Rather depressing way to look at it," John commented.

"Its realistic," she countered.

"…I know…you just…you don't hear a lot of actors saying that kind of thing. Living in the moment and all that, raking it in, you see their ego a mile before they come into view. I'm damned lucky to be here at all."

"What brought you to the theatre?" she asked.

"I'm ex-USAF Academy. They thought I wore a mask. Might as well use it for something," he exhaled slowly, shrugging too casually, "What about you? All your life?"

She shook her head instantly, "No, no, no. I did a degree in politics and international relations. Even did the work, tried diplomatic relations and everything," Elizabeth tilted her head, narrowing her eyes in thought, "…But that was acting. It was all acting, not daring to show a twitch that could give you away. It depressed me, having to be somebody else all the time. So I thought why not get out whilst I could and honestly be somebody else I could separate from myself and enjoy it?"

"…Big gamble…"

"…Its paid off so far…"

John nodded, "They seem very protective of you."

"Who?"

"The cast, theatre staff."

Elizabeth stared straight out the window, "…I guess they are. I've been working with some of them for years, same productions, once you get a group that works well together, you kind of stick. I've known Rodney for years, he's like my brother. We don't get to work together that often, but its great when we can…" she looked down at her coffee, "They've seen me go through some…rough patches. They're going to be wary of you."

"Of me?" he blinked.

She shook her head, deciding it was better to have it all out in the open before they started work together, "…I got involved with my leading man a few years back. It…didn't end well. Neither of us really knew what was going on…and Simon just moved on…they thought he was abandoning me when I'd already let him go…" Elizabeth tried a laugh, "But you don't want me pouring my heart out to you. There's a reason we're actors; we're supposed to be able to turn it on and off!" she joked, "Shame it doesn't always work like that."

"…I know…" John sipped his coffee, "If there's one thing I know, its that that's the truth. People always think you're acting, manipulating…"

"Imagine if we distrusted everybody who wasn't an actor?"

"Exactly."

She drained the last of the latte in her glass and hopped down her the high rise chair, grabbing her coat from the back as she did so, "I'm glad we have an understanding," she paused, "You know how to get home from here?"

"To my 'flat'?" he questioned, "Yeah, sure, I'm good. No tour needed. You be alright out there on your own? Its two a.m."

Elizabeth smiled and shrugged into her jacket as she walked away, "John Sheppard, after a few weeks working with me, you'll know never to ask that question again."


	3. Chapter 3

John wandered home alone in the dark, pacing slower than he usually would have, trying to ensure he would remember the streets in the morning. Though, he had read somewhere, it was highly unlikely he would remember a scene from darkness once it hit daylight. Running on alcohol and caffeine alone, he was surprised he was still standing. And he didn't even have time to sleep off the jet-lag before morning! More than the surroundings, his mind was on his new leading lady. Interesting wasn't even the word for her. It had been her smile that had first dragged him in, but through the evening he had seen so many different reactions from her it was almost as if she were truly acting out even her own life. Moments when the group round the table had been in hysterics, she had been merely smiling, eyes glazed over, others when they had been contemplative, bordering on down, she had taken it upon herself to try and cheer them up. At times he had wanted only to get a little closer to her, curious, and at others there had been something about her that simply screamed 'don't touch me'. Then again, he supposed, he hardly knew the woman. And wasn't likely to see her again after the next five months had passed. Something about that depressed him, and the thought that it depressed him disturbed him more than a little. John soon discovered the tube stations were shut, and so had to walk the two miles back to his 'flat'.

* * *

She was perched on the edge of the stage, tempted to lean back and lie down, when Laura came running down one of the aisles between the seating, waving a sheet of paper as she ran, "Hey! Hey, guys!" she called. 

Elizabeth looked down, "What's wrong?"

"New advertising," she skidded to a halt, "You know, posters, fliers, that sorta thing," she craned her neck to look up at the stage.

"What've you got?" she asked.

"Er, that's it…"

"You what?" Lorne walked to the edge of the stage, peering down at her.

Cadman held up the sheet of paper, revealing it was blank, "I got nothing!"

Rodney overheard this and moved to join them, "You have nothing? A month to production and you have nothing? Am I expected to fill this theatre myself?"

"Hey! You try working with this damned title and no promotional pictures!" she snapped.

"That Teyla girl isn't here yet either."

"She what?" Laura's eyes narrowed, "Oh, she's in for it now."

"Be _nice_," Elizabeth stressed.

"She just ruined my brilliant plan."

"Which was?" Rodney sounded more than skeptical.

"…Well, I have no promo pictures to work with. So I thought the cast could get all dressed up and we'd do some black and white shots. I don't mean costumes or anything, just smart," she shrugged, "Guess it'll have to wait. Looks like I'll be dealing with Teyla anyway, so its just as well we know whether it'll be her or her understudy in the shoot."

"…We didn't agree to anything…" Lorne reminded her.

"Don't make me get my laser pointer out and shine it in some eyes…" she threatened. Cadman sighed and shrugged, "Just do me that favour? We could do with the promotional stuff. Expect reporters for interviews soon too, so get to know your characters." She smiled, "So, what do you think of that John guy?"

"Seemed like a nice enough guy," Lorne shrugged.

"Guess we wait and see if he can handle the pressure," McKay commented.

"You're just bitter he can calculate faster than you, Rodney," Elizabeth shot back. She winced; she hadn't intended to bring his math skills up again.

"I thought you people would be prancing around on that stage by now," a deep voice echoed through the empty theatre.

Elizabeth looked up, "We never prance," she smiled slightly.

"You! You let John Sheppard slip through to backstage yesterday!" Rodney pointed.

Ronon Dex glared up at him, "I've got a few hundred people to deal with, I can't be expected to handle all of them. If somebody would listen and agree that I need a gun, then I might make more progress. He said he worked here."

"And you just believed him?"

"Sheppard got through, you know him, and he works here."

"You're supposed to be security!"

"I stopped that demented fanatic from getting to Ms Weir. Which is more than can be said of the last person employed in my position," Ronon countered. He ignored Rodney's outraged glare and continued on, "I need new passport photos from you all. Including the new people. You need passes to get into other areas of the theatre now, we've got a secure locking system going, uses swipe cards."

"Secure locking system, my backside," McKay was heard to mumble, walking away.

Elizabeth shook her head, "I'm sorry, Ronon, the hangover probably isn't helping his mood."

"Teach him not to do it again then, won't it?"

"I suppose," she smiled, "When would you like the photos by?"

"Soon as possible," he nodded and abruptly turned and walked back the way he'd appeared.

Cadman frowned, "…Never know how to take that guy…"

"Just don't get on his bad side," Elizabeth replied, "When do you want to do the photos?"

"Tomorrow, if possible. Get the word round for me?"

"Of course," she stood up, swiping her script off the floor as she did so, whirling round to find herself face to face with John Sheppard, throwing her a little off balance. When he grabbed her upper arm to steady her, she stared, "Do you take stealth lessons?"

"Former life," he answered, no trace of humour in his voice, releasing her.

"Bring a suit tomorrow!" Laura was heard to yell, as she ran off back through the theatre.

John blinked, "Suit?"

"Cast photo shoot," Elizabeth answered. She was about to continue, when Bessie ran up to the pair, keeping her voice low.

"New director's here…" she whispered.

"…Nice guy?"

"I don't know…calls himself Caldwell…" Bessie shrugged, messing with her hair for a moment, "He's older than most of us…"

"And for that, I hope I have more experience," an unfamiliar male voice rang out across the stage.

John frowned, not liking his tone, but remained silent.

Elizabeth stepped forward toward the newcomer, "Hello, I'm Elizabe-"

"I know who you are, Ms Weir," he interrupted, "I'm your new director. Steven Caldwell."

She kept still, rather stunned by his abrupt manner, "Pleased to meet you…" she replied, out of courtesy alone.

Caldwell looked across at John, "John Sheppard?"

"Yeah," he nodded, unwilling to go beyond that one word.

"Spoke to your agent the other day. You're lucky to have this role, cast last minute as you were."

John glanced at Elizabeth before he replied, "…I'm sure."

"Where is everybody? They should be at work by now."

"Nearly everybody is here, but we're still waiting for Teyla Emmagan to arrive. Plane trouble," Elizabeth offered.

"'Nearly' isn't good enough, Ms Weir, I'll be having a word with the rest of the cast. And Miss Emmagan. Read through in five minutes," he walked briskly away, headed backstage.

Bessie and Lorne were staring, whilst John and Elizabeth wore identical frowns on their faces.

"…Nice first impression…" Lorne mumbled.

Elizabeth decided to ignore the incident, "Did you get home alright last night? I should've said that the tube stations would be closed," she addressed John.

He nodded, "Yeah. Bit of a walk, but yeah. At least I got to know the place a bit better."

"I never thanked you for the coffee either."

"Well, I may be a gentleman, but you're no lady, Elizabeth Weir," John joked.

She held up a hand, "I said you 'might' be a gentleman. And I'm _always_ a lady."

"A bit less idle banter, please. Persons required for act one, scene one, please remain on stage, otherwise, the rest of you, clear the area," Caldwell's raised voice met their ears.

Bessie rolled her eyes as she walked past, "I get the feeling we're going to love this guy," she grumbled.

"Yeah, I'm a fan already," Lorne followed her.

Elizabeth flipped her script over to find the first directions and dialogue. She turned back to John, "Shall we begin?"

* * *

Thankfully, for her, Teyla arrived at the set only an hour after they'd begun their first read through. Out of breath and clutching a heavy bag, she was seen to run through the backstage like some wild animal was chasing her. She threw her bag down just short of the stage entrance, tearing her jacket off and throwing it down beside it as she skidded to a halt. Teyla peered out onto the stage, frowning for a moment, "Am I required?" 

"Teyla Emmagan?" Rodney questioned, "If so, you were 'required' yesterday."

"I apologise for my lateness," she bobbed her head, "My flight was delayed and I did not realise that we started preparations so early this morning."

He leant back against the wall, staring out onto the stage, "Well, I'm not the one you should be apologising to. Try your luck with him," he nodded toward Caldwell, who stood in the rows of the audience, observing a scene with Elizabeth and John improvising temporarily.

She showed no hesitation and walked right out onto the stage, "I apologise for interrupting, but I believe I am to report to you?" she asked of Caldwell.

He folded his arms across his chest, "Teyla Emmagan?"

"Yes."

"You're late."

"I am aware of that…"

"You're ever late again and your understudy gets your part and you get hers. You were supposed to be here yesterday."

"I have already apologised to everybody concerned," Teyla's eyes narrowed, "But the delay was unavoidable. Speak with my agent. I am sorry if I have caused you further trouble, but threats will not encourage me to work well with you."

"It wasn't a threat, it was a fact. And you have caused further trouble. Get off the stage, your scenes are later," Caldwell affected disinterest, "Carry on," he called to the other two on stage.

The young actress stared for a moment, eyes blazing, before she turned on her heel and quite literally stormed off the stage.

"…Get the feeling she'd like to kill him…" John mumbled.

"Her and the rest of us…" Elizabeth whispered, "We should probably give him a chance though."

"He didn't give her one."

"Continue!" the director raised his voice.

She twitched, evidently itching to snap back, but raised her script a little and stepped back from her co-star, "We can't do this…we're just going round in circles, always circles. I can't lose you. And if we continue like this, one day we'll never speak to each other again…," Elizabeth's voice softened, "…It hurts…it hurts and I can't trust myself…not when I'm with you…"

"And I can't trust myself when I'm _not_ with you," John replied, inching toward her.

"That's not my problem…" her voice shook ever so slightly.

He continued to advance on her, "…Maybe so…" he lowered his script and stepped closer to her, "…but I fell in love with my best friend…you _wanted_ it too, and that _is_ your problem…" he stopped, lowering his head to hers, lips almost touching, "…Tell me you don't love me…and I'll leave…"

Elizabeth's gaze went from gentle to defiant in an instant, "…I don't love you," she replied.

John turned from her immediately, angrily, and exited the stage.

She sank to her knees, still fully in character, a little dazed as she heard the director's voice interrupting her thoughts.

"Well, that's an interesting interpretation. Very charged. Maybe we'll try it that way and scrub what we've got."

She blinked and looked up, glancing around. Elizabeth stood up and nodded, silently, still a little lost.

…Was it worrying that she wondered if they could have got away with a kiss?


	4. Chapter 4

Oh, that moment hadn't been good. She'd spent the evening convincing herself that she was so totally in character she had been unable to separate her feelings from her character's. She'd known John Sheppard all of two days. No doubt he was an attractive man, but she'd made the mistake of falling for her leading man in the past. Not again. Despite the appearance she projected to the world, Elizabeth knew herself led too greatly by her emotions. No. Never again. They were right though, those who had told her about him. He was a damn fine actor. She certainly hadn't been expecting that sort of scene from him, especially on a first read-through. In all honesty, she'd expected him to stand there and read the lines, as they, and most of the cast had been doing for the duration. Though she couldn't say she'd never lost herself in a scene. And it had been one of the most important of the entire production. In a way, she supposed, at least it showed that he was already comfortable enough with her to behave in such a way. Then again, it was expected of them to throw themselves into their characters even if they despised each other, in their profession. She smiled absently; she always did have the habit of reading too much into things. So what, a fleeting second of emotion, if she could even call it that? Anyone who had performed that scene with her would have had the same effect if they'd pulled the same stunt. Right? Elizabeth shook her head and hauled her duvet over her head, dismissing her train of thought completely.

* * *

The first thing John caught site of when he entered the theatre was Bessie, standing alone on the stage, repeating something under her breath and performing a series of complex moves, though she never seemed to move from the spot she stood in. He wandered through the rows of seats and halted before he reached the orchestra, "Didn't know we had dance numbers," he commented, half smiling. 

She stopped and stared down at him, "Oh, we don't," Bessie shook her head, "We don't. I've got a part in a music video being shot in London, we can do work on the side, you know," she explained, "Even with our contract."

"Nice dress," he commented.

"Thanks," she swept out the skirts and took a bow, "Don't really want to spend all day in it, but I don't know when Cadman's got the photographer coming in," she grinned, "You're looking very handsome today," she teased.

John bowed in return and grimaced, "I hate photos."

"Don't we all? Last thing we need is our faces on a billboard somewhere."

He frowned, "Wait, I don't understand something."

"What?"

"Plot point: if you're in the photos, are we leaving out the little girl who plays your younger version?"

Bessie nodded, "Then we don't give away too much," she shrugged, "Advantage of looking younger than I am, apparently," she didn't look impressed, "I can do any age from fourteen to thirty. Pitch my voice. So I'm playing the daughter in the second half of the play entirely."

"And we have to pretend we have a secret fountain of youth," he quipped.

"Make-up'll do somethin'," she answered, "They always do."

"Is the director here yet?" Teyla Emmagan stuck her head round one of the stage entrances

"You're safe,"Lorne appeared beside her,"Unfortunately he has to be here for the shoot too though."

"Wouldn't mind shooting him myself," Elizabeth's voice was heard from the entrance to the theatre. She pulled at the collar of her blouse and adjusted her black suit jacket, "Seven hours working with him and I understand why Ronon wants a gun," she strode through the room to stand beside John, "Nice suit," she shot him a smile.

"Same to you, Ms Weir," he bowed again and just managed to get out of the way as she swiped to smack him round the head.

Lorne walked out from backstage, raised an eyebrow and grinned, before raising his voice, "Teyla?"

"Yes?" she stepped out onto the stage.

"Don't let Caldwell get to you."

"I will not," Teyla shook her head, "I earned this part and I am not going to let him push me around."

"That's the spirit!" he smiled and moved to sit on the edge of the stage.

Elizabeth blinked as she looked up at Teyla, "…Does she really think that's appropriate…?" she mumbled to John.

He twitched his shoulders, "…Suits her character…I'd tell her to put a shirt on underneath that…whatever it is though…"

"Why me?"

"Because I'm a guy and if I say it, she'll think I was perving."

She turned a snort of laughter into a cough, "Maybe you were."

"Maybe you were too."

Elizabeth shot him a look that had scared lesser men from the theatre in an instant, "…For that, I'm saying you were staring at her chest," she couldn't hide the laughter in her eyes as she broke from his side to head backstage.

He stared after her, jaw almost hanging open, then looked back at Teyla, deciding that the current expression on his face would only support her story.

"Everybody here?" Rodney appeared on the stage, glancing around.

John frowned, "Why aren't you all dressed up?"

"I'll try not to take offence at that," he replied, "I don't need to be in the promotional shots, I'm the manager, not an actor."

"You've got the ego for it," Elizabeth strode out after him, smiling, patting him on the shoulder as she walked by.

"Hurt and offended."

"Time to worry is when I mean it, Rodney," she glanced back at him, an apology in her eyes, "Carson's just getting ready."

"About time!"

"We knew he had to finish that TV-show spot before he could come to rehearsal, Rodney, so don't savage the man."

"Anybody would think he was really your brother, not just playing the role," McKay mumbled.

"I've known him longer than even you," she chastised.

"Carson? Carson Beckett?" John continued to stare up at the stage, "Playing Benjamin?"

"Yes, my brother," Elizabeth nodded.

"And Teyla," he nodded to her, "Playing my little sister."

"Yes," Teyla bobbed her head.

"So, Bessie's the daughter, Teyla and Carson are their sister and brother respectively, Lorne is Teyla's husband…" John closed his eyes, "Why do I feel like I'm gaining an extended family here?"

"Because you most likely are!" Elizabeth smiled.

"Hey!" Ronon's deep voice was heard at the back of the room, "Some guy with a camera here says he's here for a photo shoot. Do I throw him out or does he belong to you?" he grinned savagely, "Give me an excuse…" he frowned as he caught sight of Teyla, "Who is that?" he called.

"I am Teyla Emmagan," she replied.

"…Interesting…" he muttered under his breath, "Anyway, what do I do with this guy?"

"Send him in," Rodney stated.

"Alright people, let's get to work, don't keep the man waiting," Caldwell seemed to appear from nowhere, making most of his cast start, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

* * *

"Right, bring that chair round to the front. John, sit down. Teyla, Lorne, to the right. Bessie, sit on the floor in front of John. Carson, to the left." 

Rodney glanced at his watch and sighed, "Where is that Aiden guy?"

"Same reason as Carson, Rodney, other commitments. He said he'd be here-" Elizabeth began.

"Late! Late! Sorry, its me, I'm here, I'm late, sorry," Aiden Ford ran headlong from backstage, out of breath, and thankfully wearing a suit, "Just finished shooting yesterday and then one of my mates…well, he's in a bad way, addicted to…well, I can't tell-"

"We thought you were dead!" Rodney barked, "Get in the picture, introductions later."

Ford thought nothing of this, "Sure. Where do you want me?"  
"To the left of Carson please, Mr Ford," the photographer answered.

"Carson?"

The Scott held his hand up, "Aye, that'd be me."

"Oh, hey," he shook hands quickly and took his place.

"Right, okay, we're going to do this in several arrangements, see which looks best. Ms Weir, please stand behind Mr Sheppard," he held up the camera.

Elizabeth moved to stand behind John, awaiting further instruction.

"Right. Lorne, please put your arms round Teyla. Good, good. Carson, I need a worried look, directed at Ms Weir. Aiden, is that right?"

"Yep," Ford nodded.

"I want you to stand with your back to John, glancing back and laughing like you think he's talking utter crap."

"Now that I can do."

"Bessie, we need your younger persona for this. Cross-legged, looking up at John and Elizabeth, straight up, not looking back, grinning," the photographer nodded as she obeyed, "Okay. Now, John, lean forward, one elbow on your knee, resting your chin on your hand. Elizabeth, wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean forward, I need you to look like you're laughing, like you adore the man. John, don't make eye contact, just look straight forward, slight smile, confident like."

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before she took her pose, and didn't smile until the photographer brought the camera to his eyes. She could feel John's heartbeat, and, if she wasn't mistaken, it was going a little fast for somebody at rest.

"Comfortable?" she heard him whisper.

"Quiet, you," Elizabeth nudged him, smiling, out of character.

"Teyla, I need you glancing somewhere between Lorne and John, so you could be looking at both of them. Smile. No, not grin, smile. Okay, good. Lorne, rest your head against Teyla's. You love the woman," the photographer set the flash, "Okay, here we go. Three, two, one…"

Elizabeth laughed silently and leant into John as the picture was taken, moving slowly away as everyone relaxed.

"I could get used to this," John mumbled.

"You could, could you?" she said quietly.

"Uh-huh…"

"Right. Okay. Get rid of the chair. Elizabeth, on the right, John, the left. Teyla, beside John, Carson beside Elizabeth. Ford, Lorne, at the back, centre, two paces behind them. Bessie, in the middle, older, arms folded. When I take this next shot, I need you to look from Elizabeth to John, as if you've realised something for the first time, its just hit you, I'll get the shot as you go. Everybody else, serious, looking straight at the camera, except the two leads. I want you two to gaze at each other, but I want no heavy emotion, got it?"

The cast nodded, and Bessie took her mark.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

"Three, two…"

Bessie looked from Elizabeth to John, look of shock and hurt on her features.

"One," the photographer caught her mid-way, shorter strands of her hair flying in the shot.

"Great! Nicely done," he nodded, smiling, "Now, get the chair back. Just Mr Sheppard and Ms Weir, please. John, reclaim your seat."

John dragged the chair over and sat down.

"Elizabeth, more or less the same pose as before, except I need you to look possessive. He's yours and nobody else can have him. Okay?"

Elizabeth nodded as she stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders again, but this time looked out at the camera, jaw set and eyes cold.

"John, just sit there and look like a guy. Like you don't notice."

She slid one hand down to rest on his chest, pulling him back against her, "…Okay…?" she said softly.

He simply nodded, quietly thinking he was enjoying himself too much for his own good.

"Three, two, one…" the photographer smiled again, "Wonderful. Now, okay, Bessie, come back please."

The young woman nodded and returned, "What am I doing?"

"John, ditch the chair again."

John somewhat reluctantly un-wove himself from Elizabeth's arms and moved the chair out of shot.

"Elizabeth, arms round Bessie, protective, glaring at John. Bessie, younger again, arms round Elizabeth, looking lost."

The women struck up their pose, John standing opposite.

"John, look confused."

He followed orders and the picture was taken without a count, making him look even more stunned, to good effect.

"Right, let me check these out for a second."

Elizabeth wandered across to John, "I hope we get a lunch break. I told my little sister Aimee I'd have lunch with her…"

"She lives in London?"

"Lives and works here."

"Alright, John, Elizabeth. Advertising shot," the photographer called.

They wandered back to their marks, curious.

"I need you to demonstrate your character's momentary relationship…"

"You what?" John questioned.

"I need you to kiss."

Elizabeth twitched, though nobody noticed, and stopped herself from blushing just in time.

John glanced at her, hesitant, "…Try Act 1, scene 12?"

She nodded, silently, though it was she who closed the distance between them.

John wrapped his arms around her waist as she twined her arms around his neck. He was sure she had felt how fast his heart had been going earlier, and didn't dare contemplate what she thought of him considering how fast it was going now. To his credit, he remained entirely composed, and smiled only mentally when he felt her heart going at more or less the same rate. So she wasn't quite so calm and collected after all…

"Okay, so, this is it…this is the end…this is the choice…" the photographer reminded them, "it needs to show," he held up the camera.

John looked down at her, "…You okay…?"

She nodded, "Yeah," she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.

He brushed his lips against hers as his eyes fell shut, hesitating, giving her the control. When he felt her start to respond, he deepened the kiss, still sternly telling himself he shouldn't be revelling in the experience. She drew him closer to her still, kissing him urgently with a definite sense of hunger and passion that she couldn't suppress, abandoning herself to their embrace, forcing herself to relax when he did the same. She let the feel of him flood her senses, not caring that a camera was on them and that she was quickly imposing her own sudden desires onto her character.

When they were forced to break apart for air, they found the photographer interested only in his camera, and the rest of the cast looking everywhere but them. It was John who took a step back, Elizabeth quickly mimicking him. Brief eye contact was dropped as they realised just what had happened.

…Actually, what had just happened?


	5. Chapter 5

It was half an hour later, as she sat down to lunch with her little sister, when the full impact of what had happened on stage hit Elizabeth. She waved a hello to Aimee and quickly claimed her seat, sighing louder than she would have liked as she sat down.

Aimee frowned, pushing a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, "…What's wrong?"

Her head was in her heads, eyes covered, and she refused to answer.

"Elizabeth?" her sister continued, "Elizabeth? Don't make me bring out the childhood nicknames…"

Elizabeth peered out between her fingers, "I just did something stupid."

"You get fired for it? Because you can sue, you know. Or we can go after people with bats. Or, even better, you can let me film a documentary and-"

"I kissed one of my colleagues," she muttered.

Aimee didn't seem at all fazed by this, "And? You're an actress. Goes with the territory, right?"

Elizabeth winced and finally pulled her hands from her face, sitting up straight as she mumbled her reply, looking away, "No, I…really kissed him."

"At least it's a him," she tried to joke.

"Really kissed him."

Her sister frowned, narrowing blue eyes, "…As in you got a little too involved in a scene…or you really kissed him for him?" she asked slowly.

She coughed, "…Little of both."

Aimee sighed and leant back in her chair, picking up the bottle of wine from the table and pouring a large glass for each of them, "…This isn't another Simon, is it?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "No. No, no. I'm not involved with him."

"But you'd like to be?"

"No, he's a colleague, a friend, I work with him."

"And you find him attractive?"

She remained silent, eyeing daggers across the table.

"…That's a 'yes' then. Okay…" Aimee took a sip from her glass, "…How did he react?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did he kiss you back?"

Elizabeth paused, "…Yes. I think. But it was part of a scene, a photo shoot, he had to," she slouched, "We barely said two words to each other afterward. And everybody was staring."

"Must've looked like something then."

"But it wasn't meant to be. And I don't want them thinking-"

"Let them think what they like, Lizzie," Aimee interrupted, "You're the lead. You're the one the theatre's working to keep. Who cares? Maybe they'll think you're really that good, that you can pull that off and have it mean nothing…" she frowned again, "…It meant nothing, right?"

Elizabeth busied herself with the menu, "…Nothing."

* * *

"That was some kiss back there," Bessie traipsed down the steps to the courtyard at the back of the theatre, accompanied by a blonde haired woman. They perched on the side of the steps, glancing back at John, who sat staring into space, sandwich halfway to his mouth. 

"If you say so," he replied.

"I do say so," she nodded, showing no shame.

Her companion frowned and shifted to face him, "You okay?"

"I'm good."

Bessie sighed, "Two hours free of Caldwell. Has to be good," she tried.

"Yeah."

She rolled her eyes, stood up, and parked herself right next to him, "Alright, mr-leading-type-man, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," John insisted, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Nothing always means something," the blonde insisted, before she stood and offered her hand to him, "Kate Heightmeyer. I run the theatre bar."

"John Sheppard," he narrowed his eyes, "Okay, its nothing worth mentioning."

Bessie shook her head and stared at the floor.

Kate sighed, "…John?"

"…Yeah?" he glanced sideways at her.

"…I'm not expecting you to pour your heart out or anything. I just don't like seeing people upset. And you _are_ upset. If its something I can help fix in some way, then I'd like to try. And if it isn't, I know the best bars and clubs in London where you can forget and attain the best hangover you'll ever have," she shot him a smile.

"And get shot by Caldwell for turning up and not being thoroughly professional?" the glint of humour was at least in his eyes, even if he didn't return the smile.

"Yeah, I'm not liking that guy…" Bessie muttered.

"Think we can form a mutiny?" now John did smile at the thought.

"I think we can try!"

"Rally the troops!"

She threw him a mock salute before her expression sobered, "…Seriously though, John…you okay?" she stood up and made for the back door to the theatre, pulling the door open.

"I will be," he nodded.

Bessie exchanged a concerned glance with Kate, before the heavy door swung shut behind her with a clang.

Kate stood up, hesitating for a moment, "…She's a great actor, John. And she's also a decent person to go with it. You don't get that much amongst us actor lot, you and I know both know that."

"Who?" John feigned ignorance.

"You know very well who. Word gets round. People talk. And I don't just stand behind the bar all day. You're going to see me in the back rows more than you'll like."

"Nothing happened. It was acting. That's it."

Kate closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, "…If you're going to draw lines, do it now. Don't let them merge like they did back there," he shot her a startled look and she merely raised an eyebrow, "At least I'm honest. You've known each other a few days. It might look great on stage, but it'll leave you wondering what's going to happen when the lights go down. I've seen it, John, I've seen it with too many of my friends," she looked away, "…I've seen too many people hurt. Too many people to count…" she walked quickly away, refusing to look back.

* * *

They performed the afternoon's scenes with written dialogue the only words between the leads, the occasional hesitant glance and quick escape to a held up script easily disguised. 

"Where's your father?" John questioned, eyes flicking between the script and Bessie.

She shrugged, "At his place? I don't really know. I sent him a card, but only out of courtesy really. I know he's not my real dad. …But he has been…all my life really…and I didn't want to hurt his feelings… Mum keeps apologising to me. She thinks she should have made it work. I say seventeen years is pretty good going," she smiled sadly, "She loves someone else…we all see it…she'll just never tell him…"

"He loves you, you know that. He'll be pleased with the card. Say hi to your Mum for me."

"Harmony!" Carson called from off-state.

Bessie glanced wildly around, "My uncle," she explained, "You know him. Mum's brother, Ben. He didn't want me wandering around so late at night on my own."

"Harmony love, your mother'll be frantic!"

"Anyway!" she dug around in the bag she'd brought, "Here," she held out an envelope to him, "…Because…well…" she suddenly became shy, "…You know…"

"Harmony!" Carson raised his voice.

"Coming!" Bessie turned and ran off-stage.

John made deliberately slow work of fake-opening the envelope, reading an imaginary card as Bessie provided the voice-over from off-stage, "'Dear Mark. Happy Father's Day! Thanks for always being there for me, even when I was a little brat! Love, your daughter, Harmony.'" He stared at the card, "…My…" he shook his head, "My…" he stared after where she'd left the stage, "…Daughter?" his expression suddenly became angry, "…She lied to me. Rose lied. She lied all these years!" John looked back up, breaking into a run, "Harmony! Wait!" he exited the stage as the lights went down.

"Right, we're moving on. Not great, but not bad," Caldwell called from the stands, "Move on! Skip the next three scenes, I want the Rose / Mark confrontation. Get the lighting right! It was enough to give somebody an epileptic fit in the last scene."

"I am doing the best I can with the equipment available!" Zelenka snapped.

"Well then, Mr Zelenka, do it better."

Offstage, Elizabeth shot Carson a worried look, "…Why is he so hostile? He barely knows us. He keeps speaking like that and I'll-"

"You'll say somethin' and it'll give him an excuse," her old friend replied, "Though out of all of us, you're the one who could get away with it. He can't exactly fire ye. Give him a couple more days."

"And then take him down a peg or two…"

"Aye, if that's what ye want to do…"

"Ms Weir! Mr Sheppard! We're on a schedule," Caldwell snapped.

"He's just jealous he didn't get the last directing job…" Rodney muttered.

Elizabeth stalked out onto the stage and took her mark, jaw set, trying not to glare at their director. When John joined her, for a moment she was sure she saw the spark in his eyes she'd seen earlier that day, but when she let herself focus on him, he already had a mask in place. Part of the job…right.

"Begin, please."

He advanced toward her immediately, "Why didn't you tell me?" his voice was deadly low.

"Tell you what?" she questioned, throwing herself into her character, backing away, almost afraid, "Mark, what's got into you?"

"Harmony, Rose, about Harmony."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, "What about Harmony?"

John gesticulated wildly and turned away from her, shouting, "For god's sake, we've known each other since we were ten years old! I know when you're lying! You lied about that candy when you were a kid and that's the exact expression you're showing now! Thirty five years, Rose, thirty five years I've been your best friend? Isn't that enough to tell me the truth?"

"I made my choice!" she cried out, "I made my choice and what would you have done if I'd have said otherwise?"

"I loved you!" he shouted, whirling to face her again, "I loved you! You told me to leave, you didn't love me, and at the same moment you were carrying my child!"

"I-"

"Harmony's my daughter! You told her! She told me! I can't believe that I had to hear it from her! You never were good at lying, but you sure kept up a great performance these past eighteen years!"

Elizabeth violently threw her script away from her, "What else could I do? Neither of us was well off! Neither of us knew how to raise a child!"

"We would've had a better chance with two of us!" John started to pace back and forth, "I loved you. I loved you so much and you told me to go!"

"I was terrified!"

"That's no excuse. Don't try that one on me. You're the brave one out of the two of us."

"I was in love with you!" she shouted, "I was so in love with you it hurt! I wasn't prepared for a child, I didn't know what to do! What would have happened when I told you? I didn't know! It was one drunken night!"

"Nice to know you thought I'd abandon you."

"That's not what I meant!"

John dropped his script to the floor, "It doesn't matter now. You married somebody else. And a lie is still a lie, no matter how old it is…"

"You've always been a part of her life…"

"I'm her father!"

"And I'm her mother!" Elizabeth yelled, furious.

He began to walk away, "…I always thought I could see you in her. Because she was beautiful and talented and so damn smart. I guess I never saw the darker side of you in her…" John left the stage, "Goodbye, Rose."

True to her trade, she managed to cry at the exact moment. Her voice hitched, "…But…I love you…" she spoke to an empty stage.

They both received a riotous round of applause from everyone backstage, even a few reluctant claps from Caldwell, as John returned to the stage.

He frowned, concerned, "…Didn't really make you cry, did I?" he reached out to her, the day's earlier events forgotten in his worry.

"No, no," Elizabeth sniffed and wiped her eyes, trying a smile, "Click your fingers and I cry like that!" she joked. She let him wrap one arm around her and hug her briefly, before she realised they were getting closer again, and it seemed that at the same moment, John remembered what was said earlier to him about lines and merging, so they stepped apart once more.

"Nice work," he offered.

"You too."

"Let's not congratulate ourselves just yet," Caldwell commented, "Nine am tomorrow, be here, that's an order, everybody," he strode from the theatre, the entire cast and crew trying to kill him with a collective glare.

"Miss Cadman says she will have the photos tomorrow," Teyla commented, breaking the sudden silence.

"Already?" Bessie frowned.

"That's quick," Aiden mused.

"Digital," Zelenka reminded them.

"Speaking of digital…" Rodney walked out onto the stage, "Some woman named Aimee Weir wants to do a feature on this production for digital television."

"She what?" Elizabeth stared.

"…Family member? I sort of presumed…she said we were the best in the business right now-"

"And anything appealing to your ego got right through," Zelenka shot at him.

"Very funny. How about keeping the lighting still next time?"

The technician muttered something clearly derogatory in his mother tongue, shaking his head, and walked off.

"She wants to shoot some pieces when we're a week from performance," McKay continued.

"Sneaky…" Elizabeth mumbled, smiling slightly.

"We're all agreed that she can? Good, because I already said yes."

"Rodney!"

"I did not know television appearances were part of this job…" Teyla began.

"Neither did we, lass!" Carson answered.

As the rest of the cast began to chatter around them, John and Elizabeth moved a little further away.

"…About earlier…" John began.

She shook her head and smiled slightly, "…I should have warned you, I'm sorry. I get a little too in character at times. I even answer to my stage-name when it gets that bad."

He nodded, "Sounds perfectly reasonable. I figured it had to be something like that," he lied.

"Sorry," she repeated.

"Hey, don't worry. Happens to the best of us."

Elizabeth dared to joke with him, "Well, if that example was anything to go by, then you're certainly one of the best, John Sheppard. Very…" she paused, regretting continuing, "Convincing." She touched his arm and smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Bye," John nodded, trying a false smile, kicking himself for hoping, even for a moment, that the woman before him hadn't been acting. Just what was he thinking anyway? She was off-limits. Getting involved with colleagues was a dangerous option. And what would she see in him anyway?

As Elizabeth walked away, she suddenly desperately wished she wasn't such a brilliant actress after all…


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks, hours of performance, and a few words of grudging respect from Caldwell later, Teyla made her way down the steps of the back entrance of the theatre as the evening turned to night.

"You managed to hold off killing him yet?" the voice spoke obviously of Caldwell, with clear scorn, "We could make it look like an accident."

She halted at the bottom of the steps and smiled briefly over her shoulder, "Should such action be taken, I would indeed welcome your assistance."

"Just give the word," Ronon shot her a feral grin.

Teyla smiled again, "I shall. Goodnight!" she started on her way again.

"Night."

She was barely into the dark alleyway that led to the main street when she felt an arm slip round her waist and another attempt to cover her mouth. Teyla quickly snapped back her right arm into a backhand, turning as the arm fell from around her waist, and jerked her knee upward at the same time as she threw a punch with her left fist. Her assailant fell to the floor, unconscious, without so much as a whimper. She sighed and shook her head, peering down at what appeared to be a young man. Teyla heard footsteps, running, and tensed back into a fighting stance.

"What the hell happened!" a deep voice demanded.

"You are too late," she answered.

Ronon paced steadily toward her, "You okay?"

"I am fine," she stretched and looked down again, "He is not."

"You do that?" he questioned.

"Indeed I did," Teyla nodded, "He attempted to grab me."

"So you floored him?"

"I had no choice."

Ronon grinned again, "Impressive. What combat styles do you study?"

"A great number."

"I could do with a sparring partner."

"Perhaps later. First we must deal with this man," Teyla knelt to check his pulse, "He is at least alive. Unfortunately."

Ronon pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, "I'll call the cops."

"As long as they prevent him from trying such an attack again and do not merely caution him," she stood up, sighing.

"I got some friends in the local force. If I say enough, this guy won't see the streets for a while."

"Thank you for your assistance," Teyla bobbed her head, checking her watch at the same moment.

"No problem," he frowned, "Need to be somewhere?"

"…I said I would meet with Aiden for a drink."

"…Ah. You go. I'll deal with this guy."

She took a step away, then looked back, "I…also require an experienced sparring partner…"

"We'll see what we can do then?" Ronon wouldn't quite meet her gaze, "Go. I'll finish here. Don't want you being late for Ford."

Teyla would have replied that she knew Aiden only from previous work together, in another country, and that he was more of a brother to her then anything else. But as she walked away, she decided she quite liked what she suspected was the spark of jealousy in his eyes. So she kept quiet in the hope that she would see it again.

* * *

Early the next morning, Elizabeth was wandering from her bedroom to her kitchen, piece of toast in her mouth whilst she buttoned her shirt, when she heard her phone start to ring. Halting, she frowned, wondering whether to answer the machine with her elbow and drop her toast. The phone made the decision for her, switching to the answer phone. 

"_Aye, ye always did leave early for work, lass,"_ Carson's voice filled her flat, "_but this early is pushing it a wee bit! Anyhow, we're all thinking of going for a meal this evening, most likely minus our lovely director, unless he invites himself. Let me know if you're coming along when you get to work. Actually, talking of leaving for work…"_

She laughed as he hung up, and only just managed to rescue her toast. She took a bite as she raided the refrigerator for orange juice, searching for a glass at the same moment. Failing that, she poured some into a mug and took it with her as she walked back into her bedroom. Elizabeth grabbed a short scarf from her wardrobe and tied it at her neck as she heard the phone ring again. She shrugged and let it run through to the answer phone again.

"_Elizabeth? Its Rodney. Cadman's got the promotional shots back and wants to run through them with you guys today. We got that digital sound system working last night as well. Told you we would. Did you ever doubt me? Thought not. Oh…and Zelenka may be a little singed around the edges…he made friends with an open circuit yesterday evening… Anyway, see you in a few."_

Elizabeth smiled and downed the last of the orange juice, setting the glass down on her bedside table, headed back to the main living area. She snatched up her bag, swiped her keys off the sideboard, and was about to head out the door when the phone rang _again_.

"_Elizabeth? …Its John. Rodney says Cadman has the promo shots back, thought you might like to know. Oh…and I wanted to make sure you were okay about 'the scene' we have to do again today…if you're uncomfortable with it then-"_

She headed back and swiped the phone off the hook, "John?"

"Elizabeth?"

She smiled as if he could see her down the line, "It'll be fine. I'll be there in half an hour," she hung up and rushed out the door, into rush-hour London traffic.

* * *

'The scene' as they had been referring to involved the two of them and a bed in the centre of the stage. Nothing that went too far, certainly nothing beyond a PG rating, but after their kissing fiasco, the first time they had tried to act out what was on paper, it was a complete disaster. They'd been uncomfortable making eye contact for days before, let alone getting too close to each other. She had tried to be professional and only made it worse for herself when she couldn't just let go and throw herself into her character like she had been able to before. The fact that she'd had an…interesting…dream the night after they'd done the promo shots hadn't helped. One that certainly wasn't PG rated. Elizabeth had told herself it meant absolutely nothing, women had dreams about attractive men all the time. Of course. Both their characters were supposed to be slightly drunk at the time, but even what was supposed to be behaving in a mock inebriated manner hadn't been able to hide the awkwardness. She had been afraid to touch him and he had been more than hesitant. 

That aside, she knew they were getting along much better. She genuinely liked the man, and, attracted to him or not, was somebody she would have chosen to spend time with regardless. They made each other laugh between scenes and even general conversation was easy and not strained. This was, she assumed, because they were professionals and could put such previous incidents behind them, quickly. Because they had to. She would have liked to have talked to him properly about it, but knew she couldn't trust herself not to project another persona to hide behind if she didn't like the situation. But yes. She liked John Sheppard. And enjoyed working with him. …Even if there was something to be said about keeping a professional distance…

* * *

"…Securely caught in chains that bind…" 

John heard the voice he knew as Bessie's as wandered through the maze of backstage.

"Chains you'll never see…"

It was only then that he hesitated and turned up the radio function on his MP3 player, frowning as she continued with the same lyrics, same tone, same voice, as the one the radio station was playing.

The woman in question appeared round the corner, still singing quietly to herself, and smiled at him as she headed past, "Morning, John."  
"…Morning…" he paused, "Bessie?

"Yeah?"

He yanked the earphones away and turned the sound up more as he held them out to her, "…Is this you?"

She grinned, "That'd be me then…"

"You said you had a part in a music video…"

"Ah…" Bessie pretended to be ashamed of her misleading words, "I never said the music video was mine, did I?"

"…No…" John answered, "Any other hidden talents?"

"Hidden?" she smiled, "You don't look at the UK charts, do you? I was told we had to try all trades in the acting business; singing, dancing, the whole package, you know?" the smile became a grin, "I _think_ even Elizabeth tried the singing thing once. I've heard Carson teasing her about it…" she shook her head, "Anyway! You're on next. Our master calls…"

Elizabeth singing…interesting concept…

"Is Elizabeth here yet?"

"Yes, she is," the woman in question's voice echoed down the corridor as she shrugged out of her black coat, "I set out early and end up late. London traffic. Bane of my life."

"Caldwell calls, apparently…"

"Don't shoot the messenger…" Bessie held up her hands and walked off.

Elizabeth joined him and leant back against the opposite wall, "…So…" she began.

"…Yeah…"

She started off again, "Let's go show him what we can do."

John hesitated, "…I think I know how to deal with this…"

"You do? This what?"

"This. This thing we've got going with scene eight," he elaborated, staring down at his feet for a moment.

"…That thing," she nodded and glanced back at him.

'That thing'. Oh she knew alright. What he hoped she didn't know was how desperately attracted he was to her. She was beautiful, but that wasn't it. Just something about her smile, mostly when she knew she wasn't supposed to be smiling, made him want to make her laugh and smile again and again, whenever he could. He loved how much of a realist she was, that even though she knew she might be one of the current best actresses out there, she just wanted to be herself, that she could turn up to work in jeans and a torn jumper, smile, and become another person for the day. What he was finding increasingly frustrating was that he was spending increasing amounts of time as Mark, and she as Rose, so that he wasn't ever sure which of them was talking. Or if she knew the difference in a second either. He always knew when Elizabeth was speaking, he just wasn't sure how many different masks she had to protect herself…and hated seeing them more often than he wanted. Something was going on between them…and neither was entirely sure just what that 'something' was.

"I just need to know…" John stepped forward quickly and looped an arm around her waist, drawing her a little closer, before he kissed her, softly and briefly, tensing as he realised everything could go wrong in an instant. She could hit him. She could hate him. He could have destroyed any form of relationship he had with her. He broke away, rather stunned to find her still with her eyes closed, as if she was wondering where he had gone.

"…John…I…" Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes, "…What was that?"

He shot her a sudden brilliant smile, "That thing. _Elizabeth._ Let's go do the _scene_," he started off ahead of her, if only so she couldn't see the desire in his eyes.

"…Alright…John…" she headed after him, a little dazed.

So that was what it was. No characters, no scenes, no audience, no nothing. Just them. No worry. No projecting. John and Elizabeth. …Had he been trying to prove there was little between them as people and everything between them as characters? What…had…he… He had kissed her. Not Rose. Her. And he had made the choice to do it. But now he was right back to business…

They couldn't do the scene because they didn't know where actor began and character ended?

She was fearful of the lines blurring. Now she was fearful of the lines coming apart.

And terrified of the effect he had on her.


	7. Chapter 7

She never usually drank during the day, but the lunchtime break found Elizabeth staring into a glass of gin and lemonade, hunched over, looking a little lost. She was perched atop one of the high stools of the main theatre bar, elbows on the bar top, refusing to catch the eye of Kate as she repeatedly wandered back and forth, placing glasses back on their shelves.

"Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?"

"Talking helps, you know," Kate insisted, leaning against the counter.

Elizabeth sighed, "…Talking brings confusion".

"Being an actress 24/7 causes confusion. Not talking," she shot back.

"Who have you been studying this time?"

"Nobody in particular," Kate lied.

Elizabeth looked up, "Say it," she stated.

"What?"

"Whatever you're going to say. I know you're dying to. So let's get it over with…"

Kate shrugged and started to pour herself a drink, "All I'm saying is that the last time you sat that long with a drink 'on duty' was when Simon left you…"

"He hardly 'left me'," she countered. She still clung to that argument, weak as it was.

"Its funny, you know 'cause, I saw John Sheppard wearing a very similar expression a couple of weeks ago…except he was staring at a turkey sandwich…" she tried to tease her companion into a better mood.

It didn't work, "Who says this has anything to do with John Sheppard?" Elizabeth snapped.

"Who indeed?"

She glared at the barkeeper for a second, then took a sip of her drink, "This has nothing to do with him."

"This has everything to do with him," Kate shot back.

"Don't you-"

"When you two are on stage together, the sparks fly. You have effortless chemistry with the man. I see him moping on the back steps and I see you nurse the same drink for over an hour and it just makes me wonder, would you both smile if it wasn't always on stage?"

Elizabeth held her gaze for a long moment, then abruptly knocked back the rest of her drink, jumping from her seat as if burnt, snatching her bag off the floor as she did so, "This has nothing to do with him," she quickly made her escape, letting the double doors slam behind her.

Kate shook her head and sighed, "…You keep telling yourself that…" she said softly, "…and I'm sure he'll keep saying it has nothing to do with you either…"

* * *

Why had he kissed her? 

Why had the damned man kissed her?

What was he trying to prove? Was he deliberately messing with her mind? Take her down a peg or two? What?

What she found incredibly frustrating was that whatever he thought he had been doing, it had worked. They'd managed to pull of the scene without any trouble whatsoever, no hesitation, no worries, no awkwardness. And at the time she certainly hadn't been herself. She had been Rose through and through, the only part of her that had remained was the part of her that told her how to act, how to perform. That they had to make it look good, and convincing. But she hadn't been Elizabeth. Or hadn't been thinking as her, at least. She hadn't been aware of kissing John Sheppard again, repeatedly, she had been aware of wanting Rose to be believable, and it was all just another performance. Each of them hiding behind other eyes.

Though damn the man if he hadn't made her heart beat faster and the blush almost surface when they pulled away and the scene had finished. She had looked up at him, a question in her gaze, as he stared at her, not releasing her until the rest of the world came back again and the dash to start the next scene had started. He had stared as if studying her. Her, not Rose, not the actress, her, Elizabeth.

He had kissed her in the corridor as if it was nothing, but made it seem like everything at the same instant. Why, for the love of any gods that existed, was she analysing the moment over and over again? He had been so damned casual about it! Perhaps that was what unnerved her the most, that he could behave in such a manner and somehow make her feel hurt that he hadn't taking it more seriously.

Then again, they were both here to work. Anything to get a scene done. Both actors, both, it seemed, with a persona for every occasion.

…So why had had Kate seen him on the back steps behaving in the same fashion she was now?

* * *

"If you hate me so much, you should have said no," Elizabeth stood centre stage, arms folded, script gone. She deliberately looked in the opposite direction to her co-star, her anger not entirely affected. Her frustration had quickly become fury in the few hours that had passed, not that she dared truly show it, knowing she was more angry at herself, well, possibly more, than at him. 

"You didn't ask me. Harmony did. She had every right to want her father to walk her down the aisle," John sighed deeply and walked a couple of paces from her, "and I don't hate you, Rose."

"You've got a damned interesting way of showing you clearly do."

"You really want to behave this way at your daughter's wedding? At _our_ daughter's wedding?" he snapped.

"You walked out on me again," Elizabeth muttered, stubbornly.

"You walked out on me when it mattered most. You didn't give me the choice. And you took our daughter, whom, might I add, you failed to mention, with you."

"Well, everyone knows now," she closed her eyes and shook her head, "I hope you're happy."

"I'm happy to be acknowledged as Harmony's father. Though you clearly aren't as ecstatic about the situation," John began to pace back and forth.

She sighed and unfolded her arms, trying to follow his movements, watching him warily, "…I…" she shook her head again and stared at the floor, "…I'm glad you're her father," she exhaled slowly, "…I've never wanted another father for her than you. I never wanted more children that weren't your-…" Elizabeth cursed under her breath and began to storm away, "It doesn't matter."

John caught her arm, "It does matter," he insisted.

"No, it doesn't."

He released her arm, "Oh, go on then! Run away like you did before! Like you always do! Heaven forbid you should show some emotion to somebody in your life!" he shouted.

"You have no idea!" she shot back.

"I have a fair idea," John began to stalk her round the stage as she backed away, "I have a fair idea of what its like to love somebody, watch them marry somebody else, watch them raise their child and all the while never let on that you-"

"Still love them!" Elizabeth cried out.

He stopped dead, staring, "…You…"

She whirled away from him, "You always make it so damned difficult! Do you know the number of times I nearly told you Harmony was yours? When you took her to the park, picked her up from school, let her cry on your shoulder, tell you things that she'd never tell me? You never once let me believe that I had a chance-"

"You had every chance in the world!" John advanced toward her again, "You were always brave, stronger, until it came to you and me! You going to run now, Rose?" he invaded her personal space, "Are you?" he glared down at her, lips suddenly hovering above hers as he gripped her upper arms tightly, "…Well…?" he whispered.

Damn his eyes. Elizabeth had to blink several times and resisted the urge to shake her head in an attempt to remain in character. It shouldn't be like that, she told herself, she shouldn't want him to kiss _her_, not Rose. And he shouldn't be looking at her like that. Because, she was somehow very aware of the fact that he was John again, and not Mark.

"…Well…?" he repeated, as if taunting her.

"Guys, guys, I've got the photos back!" Laura Cadman ran down the aisle of the front rows of seats, waving an envelope.

A collective groan went round backstage, several wincing, knowing an attack from Caldwell was imminent.

John and Elizabeth remained frozen, stunned, refusing to move, as if trying to make each other back down.

"Miss Cadman, I'd appreciate it if next time you waited until we've finished a scene…" Caldwell frowned.

"…Wow, that was tame…" Rodney mumbled.

"Has he nothing else to say?" Teyla stared.

"I say we rush him if he continues…" Lorne proposed.

Teyla nodded her agreement, "I would not hesitate…"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Cadman clambered up onto the stage, "but you have to see these. They're brilliant. Explosive, even."

It was John who backed away, still staring at Elizabeth, who glared at him in an almost accusing manner. He was tempted to step forward again and reach for her, to see how she'd react, but wasn't feeling quite so brave, seeing the look on her face.

Carson walked out onto the stage to meet her, "…I wouldn't risk that again…" he kept his voice low, "Next time he could have you thrown out. And I'd hate to have to threaten the man…" he smiled slightly.

Laura raised an eyebrow, "Might be worth it just to see you try…" she leant into him for a moment and kissed him on the cheek, "Anyway!" she raised her voice, "Come and take a look!" she started opening the envelope.

Aiden reached her first, eyes widening and a shocked laugh escaping him as he caught sight of the first shot, "Woah."

"They're cute, aren't they?" Laura grinned.

"Know what you mean when you said explosive," Carson mumbled.

John and Elizabeth still seemed to be in a world of their own, oblivious, engaged in a silent, mystery, battle, until Teyla, Lorne and Rodney rushed past them to take a look at the photos.

"Now that's a publicity shot!" McKay exclaimed. He glanced back at Laura, "…Good work on the graphics…" he begrudgingly complimented.

"Thanks, Rodney!" she beamed, ruffling his hair as if he were a child, just to provoke him.

"Stop it!"

"Aw, you love me really."

"No, that's Carson. C-a-r-s-o-n," he repeated mockingly slowly, stepping away from her.

"These have come out well," Teyla passed some of the group shots round.

"You look around ten in this one, Bessie!" Lorne yelled, teasing her.

"Hey!" she shouted back, mock outraged, from backstage. The young woman ran to join them, "You'll be envious when I'm sixty and look thirty!"

"What's this all about?" Ronon's voice was heard in the vicinity, "Cadman, you breach security like that again and I will have to kill you."

"Slowly and painfully?" she smiled sweetly.

"Slowly and incredibly painfully…"

Teyla shot him a smile, "I thought you only defended women's honour."

He folded his arms and peered up at the stage, "Maybe I'm selective…"

"Perhaps we will be sparring sooner than you think then…"

"Whenever you want to be taught a few things…"

"We shall see…"

"I feel so safe and warm," Rodney sarcastically commented.

"Yeah, feeling the love…" John decisively turned form Elizabeth and moved to join them. He found himself with the promotional shot of the two of them kissing, and sighed. But damn, they did look good together. He knew that was the shot they had been talking about.

"Maybe I should walk you home this evening…" Ronon continued.

"I can defend myself, thank you," Teyla replied, goading him on.

"Oh, I know. But who from?"

Caldwell sighed deeply, "If you intend to continue this childish behaviour, do it on your own time. We have a schedule here, let's get back to it."

Ronon looked as if he was itching to harm the director, but remained silent.

"Wow, you guys look like you've know each other forever in this one," Bessie handed Elizabeth one of the group shots, of them laughing, as the lead actress reluctantly wandered over.

Elizabeth took a long look at it and handed it back, "We must be good at our jobs then…" she said, voice cold, "Its just acting," she stated. She coughed and glanced at Caldwell, "Excuse me for a moment. I don't feel so well," she walked from the group, headed backstage.

John gazed after her, his action noticed by most of the group.

Rodney glared at him, accusingly, "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!" he held his hands up in self defence.

"Maybe the lass needs a break…" Carson proposed.

"What did you do?" McKay repeated.

"Nothing!" John snapped. He sighed and shook his head, "You don't need me for the next few scenes. Or her. Excuse me too," he headed off stage, after her, ignoring Caldwell's bark of a protest. He found her along one of the main corridors headed back into the theatre itself, of wardrobe and dressing rooms.

Elizabeth was leaning against the wall, and glared at him as he stopped beside her.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, "You okay? Everyone's worried."

With surprising speed, she lunged and pinned him against the opposite wall, kissing him with a rough urgency. She tore herself away and moved to whisper in his hear, voice deadly even, "Don't you dare try to mess with my head, John Sheppard. Because two can play at that game." Elizabeth released him and stormed off down the corridor, leaving him stunned in her wake.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why can't you tell any of us who your baby's father is?" Carson paced back and forth across the stage, behind Elizabeth, who sat a few feet in front of him, on the floor, staring into space.

"Because."

"I'm your brother, Rose, I think I deserve more than a 'because'."

"Because it doesn't matter," she said softly, eyes glazed over. If Elizabeth was honest, she was hoping that the state she was in would be helping the scene, as she had played Rose disinterested and disaffected by her situation before, just not on such a fazed out scale. What had she been thinking? She had been wondering why the hell he had kissed her and she had gone and practically forced herself on him! Well…no 'practically' about it really… She had loved the sense of power it had briefly given her, that she had taken the initiative and decided to try and find out some things for herself…now she was only left with a sense of shame and embarrassment. And, as always, further confusion.

"It does matter. It matters a great deal, to me, to mum and dad, to everyone. You're twenty years old, Rose, you didn't appear to be in a relationship, and now you're telling us you're pregnant?" Carson continued. He stopped pacing and knelt beside her, "Why can't you tell us who the father is?"

Elizabeth carried on looking straight ahead, "…Because…"

"Enough, Rose, because what?"

"…Because more than anything in the world…I don't want him to find out…" she whispered.

"Love, he has the responsibility to-"

"No," she shook her head and stood up, "No, he doesn't. I made this choice and I am not telling him. I haven't told him," Elizabeth began to walk away, then halted, "…I've said some terrible things to him, Ben," her voice was flat, devoid of any outstanding emotion, I've lied to him…and I've hurt him. I don't want him to know. The choice is mine. That's final," she walked off stage, head held high.

Thankfully, Caldwell saw nothing wrong with her take on the scene, "Alright everyone, that's it for the day. We're a week and a half away from our first performance, full run-throughs starting at the end of this week into the next. Some of you need to put more hours in. I don't care where, just get it right," he started to walk off, "You're a good cast, I'll give you that. You only get one impression on the night, you know that. Make it a good one," he vanished backstage, passing by Elizabeth, "…interesting interpretation, Ms Weir. If you were truly feeling unwell, then I can say method acting works well for you…" he frowned, "and no sarcasm meant." He left her glaring after him, not appreciating his words, well meant or not. She wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone, let alone him.

Elizabeth clenched her jaw tight and walked silently in the opposite direction. Part of her wanted to kill something. The other wanted to run and hide and never be found.

"…What's up with her today…?" Lorne frowned, murmuring to Rodney and Zelenka.

"I don't know," Rodney answered, "But I bet you our first night takings that it has something to do with our absent male lead…"

"Leave the woman alone. If she is unwell, she needs rest," Zelenka sighed, "…and if she is hurting then she needs time. And not interference."

"She's always spoken to us before…" Rodney countered.

"Aye…and that's what's unsettling…" Carson walked past them, more concerned that he would let on, "Leave her be. I'll have a word."

* * *

"I suppose I must be glad that so many people find solace in alcohol…" Kate commented, leaning against the bar top as John knocked back a shot with a grimace and cough, "Then again, I guess I have to worry why so many of you do…" 

"This isn't solace," he answered, "This is…" he frowned and shook his head, "God knows what this is…"

"Two words."

"Two words?"

"Elizabeth Weir."

"Which one?" John muttered.

"The one who was in here earlier looking like she'd just lost her best friend," Kate replied.

"Not so familiar with her…" he snapped sarcastically.

"John, what _are_ you doing?" her question was almost a plea.

John slouched, "Who knows? I'm damned if I do."

"…You seem rather preoccupied…with each other…" she said softly.

"We spend a lot of time together."

"As other people."

"Even off stage," his voice was bitter.

"…I'll tell you this…" Kate suppressed the rush of guilt she felt, as if she were telling tales, "…The last time I saw her like this was the last time she was burnt."

"Burnt?"

"Burnt. Emotionally. Her last relationship."

She had been involved with one of her leading men, so she had told him. If she had been honest about the situation, and at the time, he thought she had been. He had thought it would mean she would keep him as far away from her as possible. Not start a dance that kept them circling and somehow pushing further away at the same time. She had reason to be wary of him. He hadn't meant to get that close to her, he hadn't meant to kiss her as an attractive woman, as Elizabeth, not Rose. …He hadn't meant a lot of things. He had only thought it would ease the tension between them. Not built it. Now he was left with a major problem. That he wanted to see Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, not her acting skills, and not her character, in every moment he was with her. …And by letting it bleed through to their work, he was driving her away…and infuriating her.

"We don't have a relationship," John opted to reply.

Kate smiled slightly, "Oh yes you do, John. You just don't know where the boundaries lie yet…"

"Well, maybe its best that I never know," his tone was clipped as he left the bar in a hurry.

"…Do I really have that effect on people?" she shook her head and set herself to a stock take.

* * *

The knock on the door to her dressing room did nothing to improve her mood, "Come in." 

Carson poked his head round the door, studying her for a moment, before he closed the door and took a seat a few feet away from her, "…Its not good to see you hiding away in here, Elizabeth…"

"I'm doing no such thing," Elizabeth replied, "I'm just tired. We're so close to putting on the show for real now. I'm sorry if I'm being rude to you all. I just wanted a break."

"You've every right to want a break," he nodded, "but when I've seen ye work nights and every hour god gives, claiming ye want a break when you're hardly tired sets off a few warning signals…"

"I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well."

"John was asking after you."

She was silent at that.

"What has the man said to ye?" Carson questioned, voice gentle.

"…Nothing. Its just not a good day, that's all."

"There was a lot of you in Rose today. I swear in that last scene we did, you were bored," he continued, "That's not like you, Elizabeth."

"I'm having an off day…"

"Aye, and I'm the cat's mother."

She didn't understand the reference, tried to place it, then frowned, "I'm not 'hiding away in here'," she insisted.

"There's hiding and there's _hiding_."

"Says the man who has a top class medical degree but decided to be led by theatre instead? We're all hiding here, Carson, not just me. All of us have secrets and all of us, _all_ of us, half wish we could really be the characters we play. Because then it wouldn't hurt as much when we had to come back to reality," Elizabeth's jaw was set, her voice harsh, and she wouldn't look him in the eye.

"I just want to look out for-"

"I don't need you to look out for me."

"Well, I'm sorry lass, but you've got a theatre cast out there who care enough for you to do so. You're part of their family whether ye like it or not," Carson replied, as if unfazed by her words, "and I've known ye too long not to notice when you start to change and-"

"I haven't changed, Carson," Elizabeth insisted.

"Then why do you square your shoulders anytime John Sheppard comes near you? Why do ye look as if you're trying to fight him off without saying a word? Why be so defensive?" he sighed, "…Last time ye behaved like this was when you were trying to get through the last two weeks of performances with Simon…" he dared to utter.

"He's no Simon," she muttered.

"Aye, and you'll be no Elizabeth Weir if you don't talk to somebody before long."

Elizabeth stood up and walked the length of her dressing room before she leant against the door. She stared at the floor for several seconds before looking up, "…Alright."

"Alright, what?" Carson pressed.

"…Alright. He's getting to me," she said softly.

"John?"

She nodded.

"He's just another man, Elizabeth. He's your friend. Friends do that."

"No," she shook her head, "He's not just another man. And he's not my friend."

"You seemed to be getting on well until today. More than well," Carson countered, "What makes him so different?"

Elizabeth turned to open the door, "…Because he sees right through me…he looks at me and it feels as though he wants _me_…" she quietly opened the door, "…I'll see you at dinner…" she stepped through, closing it behind her.

* * *

What made her hate herself for her unprofessional behaviour was that, on some level, he wanted her to get at her. She wanted him to see right through her, and in some twisted part of her mind, wanted to lead him on a chase. Nobody had made her feel that way in years. Not even Simon. Nobody had made her _want_ them in that way so quickly, and so suddenly. Nor make her wish to be wanted. As much shame as she might feel for her earlier behaviour, she meant every word she had said. If he intended to mess with her mind, she wasn't going to stand there and let him. Elizabeth was so deep in thought, thinking herself into a temper again, that she didn't notice when she slammed into somebody, until they reached out to steady both of them. 

And it did have to be the man in question.

She managed to manipulate her look of shock to one of fury in the record time her art required, and glared up at him without uttering a word.

John just looked bemused, before his eyes narrowed, "Who am I speaking to now?"

"Don't you dare."

"Don't I dare what?" he shrugged off her threat.

"You don't scare me."

"You don't scare me either."

Elizabeth twisted out of his grasp, "Just go, John," she began to walk away.

"Sorry, but it seems like I'm not the one with some explaining to do…!"

"I was just returning the favour," she halted, not looking back.

"I was trying to help. Both of us!" he snapped.

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, "Don't give me that. Don't brand me the actress when you've got just as many masks as I have. Don't make accusations you know you couldn't defend yourself," she continued on her way, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Who says its worth going?" John taunted.

"I do. Who knows. You might get to see a 'great actress' at work…"


	9. Chapter 9

The group were well into their third bottle of wine when John had the opportunity to ask the question he had been dying to ask, if only to get a reaction of out Elizabeth. She had been bright and perky all evening, on a rather worrying scale. He hadn't seen her since he'd left the theatre earlier that afternoon, and unless the woman had already downed a bottle of spirits by herself, her behaviour was well out of sync with how she had been before. Strangely, aside from a few concerned, split second, glances from others around the table, nobody but him seem affected by this at all. Though he had caught the slight sigh and shake of the head by Carson earlier in the evening.

"So help me if you drop another coin in my drink!" Bessie peered at her wine glass, glaring at Rodney.

"Shame he can't handle his drink to go along with it," Ronon commented. He had somehow managed to seat himself next to Teyla, and they had been engaged in conversation that only seemed to concern the two of them for most of the evening, until they had realised they were being observed.

Aiden had grinned at Teyla in a knowing manner, and unfortunately that had been taken the wrong way by Ronon, who had proceeded to eye daggers across the table at the younger man for several minutes afterward. It had little to no effect on Ford, who, knowing he was no match for the guy, had shrugged it off. He did, however, find the behaviour of the security guard rather amusing, especially when he knew Teyla would put him in his place for daring to presume he had any claim on her. Aiden just wished he could be there when she did, as he found himself strangely proud of his good friend's ability to defend herself.

"I still don't get it…" Lorne muttered.

"Pennying," Rodney stated.

"As we've established, that means nothing to anyone outside of Cambridge and Oxford university!" Bessie countered.

Elizabeth frowned, "Rodney, you didn't graduate from either of those…"

"I studied for a year in Oxford. Therefore I can penny your drink. Down it," he insisted.

"McKay, it just means we'll get more alcohol," Aiden laughed.

"And means I get to laugh at you all getting spectacularly drunk."

"Us? Take a look at yourself. Already!"

"On another note," John interrupted, "What's this I hear about a certain Elizabeth Weir singing?"

To her credit, Elizabeth didn't even twitch, or shoot him a death glare.

"You weren't bad, 'Lizzie'," Carson mumbled, trying to keep a straight face.

"…And you did try to help with those songs…" Bessie tried an 'innocent' look.

"You? Singing?" Ronon blinked, glancing in Elizabeth's direction.

She laughed, "Alright, I admit it. It was early on and I was told to try breaking into the music business before acting," she hung her head, grinning, "God, those songs were awful…!" she closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed, expression hidden by the curls of her hair, the grin back in place when she looked up again.

"I don't know, I still say you've got a voice on ye," Carson tried.

"Maybe we should hear it…" John took a sip from his glass.

Elizabeth didn't seem affected in the slightest by his proposal, "No, I think we should maybe save that for a night when we aren't in public and I'm not going to scar people for life," she smiled.

"Ms Weir?"

She shifted in her seat to look round at the unfamiliar voice.

A teenage girl stood behind her, holding out a small pad of paper and a pen, "Could I get your autograph, please?"

Elizabeth smiled gently, "Of course," she took the pen and quickly signed her name, trying to hide how uncomfortable the request made her, nodding to the girl as she handed it back, "There you go."

"Thank you very much!" she smiled broadly and swiftly vanished.

John caught the telltale quick look around and forced smile before Elizabeth managed to make her suddenly flurry of action more convincing, as she reached for the bottle of wine, realising it was empty.

"Who's for another bottle?" she proposed, with a laugh.

* * *

"Rodney, that's my foot!" Kate yelled, toppling over and nearly crashing into the front doors of the restaurant, "Get your own feet!" 

"Sorry!" he slurred.

"Goodnight," Teyla bobbed her head, smiling, as Ronon held the door open for her, and the two left the restaurant.

"Gods, just give him a shove," Bessie stumbled past Rodney and out into the street.

"With pleasure," Zelenka muttered. He shook his head and tried to direct McKay toward the doors, "I suppose I will be doing the digital projection in the morning…"

"Why're you al'drunk?" Rodney mumbled, "We barely had any…alcomohol…"

"I'll call him a taxi," Lorne flicked out his cell phone.

"He's a taxi!" Kate screamed with laughter and seemed to find that hysterical.

"Its gonna be hangover central in the morning..." Laura smiled slightly as she looped her arm through Carson's, the couple being two of the few not absolutely plastered.

"Let's go, guys," Aiden tried to herd them out of the restaurant, "Night," he waved a goodbye to the two left by the doors, who had been observing the scene before them with identical raised eyebrows.

Elizabeth halted as the last of her friends vanished onto the dark streets of London, leaving her and John alone. She slowly turned to face him, all traces of mirth gone from her features, "…Now that was acting…" she said softly, as if she was disappointed in him. She drew her coat tighter around her and stepped out into the night, not looking back for even a moment. Eyes fixed on the floor, she quickened her pace down the street, pausing only to check her watch.

"Elizabeth!"

She kept walking, lost beyond the bitter anger she had felt, almost numb, as if nothing mattered. Elizabeth couldn't even summon the mental energy to curse herself. She had known what she was getting into when she decided to take up acting. She had known, on some level, that she was using it to escape her own pain. And no matter how many times it bit back at her, she never seemed to learn. She knew how to spin a line. Laugh and smile at the right moments, be so damned convincing she sometimes fooled even herself. Was it because he knew exactly what she was doing that she hated him? Or because she had known all along and didn't like hearing the truth from somebody she knew played the game the same way she did?

"Elizabeth!"

None of it was real. No matter how much she tried to convince herself. She could love anybody she chose, but knew she would always be studied. That had been what she had loved about theatre, that even if she was completely and utterly broken, she could throw up a shield and become somebody else, somebody to be studied. And she had been broken enough in her time. It was all lines. Negotiation had been lines. Diplomacy, bluffs and lies, not a word out of place or you lost the battle. She had sometimes wondered if the battle was imaginary and everyone was actually terrified out of their minds and just putting on a front. She had that down to an art. An art she was slowly starting to lose the power to deconstruct.

"Elizabeth!"

She stopped and span round in one fluid movement, arms limp at her sides, as she stared back down the street, wishing she had the will to savage him. …But there was something about being defenceless that she found strangely intoxicating. She had slammed up walls since she had decided to take steps to defend herself against her own heart. She had had relationships, few, and brief, but they had been about need, not emotion. If her extended stage family knew about what she had got up to since Simon, she was sure they would be ashamed of her. She certainly was. But there was being burnt and there was trying to feel something…anything…

And then there was John Sheppard.

John had slowly caught up and stopped opposite her, standing there silently. He reached out to her and gently moved to trace her jaw-line, only to have her slowly, almost reluctantly, twist away from him, "…Talk to me…" he said softly.

"I can't."

"Why not?" he questioned, in the same patient tone.

"Because," Elizabeth answered, emotionally exhausted.

"That's not an answer."

"Because…if I start to talk to you, I might never stop…" her eyes were almost glazed over, and she wasn't quite making eye contact.

"…Wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing…" John replied.

She raised her eyes and nodded, "…Yes, it would. You see, you think you can see _me_ in whoever I am. Maybe you're seeing what you want to see. I don't know. But you're forgetting one thing…"

"And that is?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly and turned away, "…I can't see you…" she whispered. She began to pace steadily away, briefly wishing that she wasn't correct in her assumption that he wouldn't follow her.

* * *

It was several hours later, as she sat in the darkness of her living room, staring at the TV, when she heard a knock at her door. Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the nearest wall, covering her face with her hands when she saw it read 3am. She could ignore it. Who would be bothering her at 3am anyway? She shook her head and hauled her blanket tighter around herself, switching TV stations with the remote. There was something to be said about BBC News 24. At least it always meant there was something, no matter how mind numbing, to watch on British TV. Settling back down, she was half tempted to throw the remote in the direction of her front door when the knocking started again. Elizabeth mumbled a curse and stood up, traipsing to reluctantly answer it. 

"If you wont talk to me, I'm going to talk to you."

Her eyes widened as John Sheppard walked right past her into her flat, almost ignoring her.

"You…" she stared, "How did you get my address?"

"Kate."

"Kate's drunk."

"Kate's a clever 'drunk' who could out perform you or Iat this moment in time," John shot back.

"I want to sleep," she insisted, "I'll see you at work tomorrow," she held the door open.

"This is sleep?" he gestured toward the TV and a recently abandoned mug of coffee that still sent steam trails into the air.

"John, get out of my flat," Elizabeth snapped.

He stubbornly remained where he was, and folded his arms in a small gesture of defiance.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

John still didn't move.

She shook the door for good measure, "Get out of my flat, stop trying to provoke me, and stop messing with my mind!" she shouted.

He smirked, "That's more like it."

"More like what?" she growled.

"At least that's honesty."

Elizabeth slammed the door, not caring who heard, "You want honesty? Let's start with your accusations falling on deaf ears, considering how you state you left the USAF. 'Wearing a mask'. Which one is this? The 'oh so superior' one? Or the one that just can't admit that you do exactly, and I mean exactly, what I do; you defend yourself with whatever means necessary, even if it means losing yourself in the process?"

John recoiled as if she'd slapped him, but set his jaw and glared angrily back at her.

"I warned you two could play at this game," she threatened.

"I left the USAF of my own accord," he stated, voice dangerously low.

"You mean people couldn't trust you," Elizabeth wandered to her kitchen area, suddenly feeling safer, convinced she had the upper hand.

"That's not what I-"

"People couldn't see past what you projected and you didn't know how to stop doing it, right?" she taunted.

"So?" John muttered.

"You accuse me of the same. Except you think you know me," she leant heavily against the counter, "I wasn't lying. If I really started to talk to you, I might never stop. But I won't talk to somebody I can't trust, somebody who thinks they've broken down every defence I have, when they won't even stop acting for _one minute_ and _realise_ that _everything_ we think we know is one giant charade!"

"You know me just as well as I know you."

"Really?" she began to pace toward him, "I know you get that glint in your eye when you'd really like to harm somebody, but you'd never go through with it. I know that twitch of your shoulders accompanies every statement you're trying to shrug off that hits home and you want to pretend doesn't affect you. I know you wont properly talk to anyone even though you insist I do the same. I know the way you look at me, like you see something you like, but you can't quite put your finger on why. And I know that look you use when you try to render me defenceless…" Elizabeth stopped just inside his personal space and tilted her head to look up at him, "Game's up, John. Which mask do I get to see now? I don't know anything about you, what you love or where you're from, but I know all that."

John glared down at her, torn between the desire to deny all her claims and the need to just let go. She had even somehow mastered the triumphant smirk he had so often shot at her over the past few weeks. He looked away, "…Maybe you don't get one…"

Elizabeth shook her head in dismay and started to turn away.

"Maybe you get this instead," he snaked one arm around her waist and drew her swiftly against him, before he kissed her, all traces of his anger fading away as their lips met. He had meant to teach her a lesson, how, he didn't know, some sort of payback for what she had done earlier that day. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, and found himself kissing her gently, and almost hesitantly. John expected her to push him away and give him one almighty slap, and found himself thoroughly confused when he felt her respond and start to return his embrace. So confused, in fact, that he pulled away and almost held her at arms length, "…What're you doing?" he uttered.

Elizabeth only made eye contact for a brief moment, lowering her eyes before she replied, "…Being me…" she looked up at him again, searching his expression, "…If this is being you…"

He answered her with a slow, leisurely kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes:** **Rated M/R**. I've always sworn I would never write this kind of thing, but it appears to have happened anyway. So I shall be in hiding for the next week or so, possibly more. Rated for **sexual situation**. (at the **very start of the chapter**, be warned...!) Before anyone says 'what are you playing at, they barely know each other!' - there's a point to this, and part of its in that statement.

* * *

When he broke away from their kiss and she reached for the buttons on his shirt, mind screaming at her to not be so presumptuous, or so suddenly intent on wanting him closer, Elizabeth was glad that he made the decision for her and kissed her again, hands slowly moving to roam under her shirt, making her falter briefly with the buttons. She knew she shouldn't be behaving in such a manner, knew that she had spent the evening telling him she barely knew him, but there was something in his eyes that showed the same broken exhaustion she felt herself. Moments later, she wasn't sure how she had lost her top so quickly, or how she had undone his belt, but knew they were slowly making their way back toward her bedroom. Considering the man had been driving her crazy, she had no idea why she was content to go so slowly, almost gently, when she had had visions of desperate embraces and wild meetings before the actual moment had struck them. 

John reached to undo her trousers as he stepped out of his own, steadying her as she reached up on tiptoe to kiss him again. Eye contact all the way, he undid the clasp of her bra as she shook off her trousers, then her underwear, no hesitation as she guided him back through the open door to her bedroom. He snatched her to him, hands on her hips as he pushed her back onto her bed. Elizabeth tugged at his boxers and succeeded in removing them only so far, until he kissed her with an intensity that made her fumble, leaving him to remove them himself. Another desperate kiss and her hand caressing the length of his body and he couldn't wait any longer, nudging her legs apart as he entered her, remaining still for a long moment.

She emitted a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan when he slowly shifted inside her, arching back when he moved again, hips rocking against him before she kissed him softly, opening her eyes briefly to meet his for a split second as he decided on a more passionate embrace. He began to move again, faster, as she encouraged him with her hands and her lips, sighing as he nuzzled at her neck, her breathing becoming ragged. He kissed her again, for brief moments, trying to catch his breath, a low moan escaping him as she whimpered softly and nipped gently at him, nails digging into his back for a moment as she tightened her grip on him. Unable to slow down, he quickened his pace, wishing he could slacken the desire for her to be his, now.

She kissed him with a rough hunger, wrenching herself away as she arched against him, crying out as she came, a sound she tried to stifle against his lips, broken, incoherent exclamations still escaping her as she held him tightly to her. She held him as she felt him climax, eyes closed tight as he called out her name. She twined her arms closer round his neck, one hand absently running through his hair as she smiled faintly, still trying to catch her breath, before she kissed him thoroughly and buried her head against his shoulder.

Elizabeth would have found it easier to catch her breath, were his hands not still slowly roaming her body, and were she not allowing a satisfied hum emanate from her as he did. Damn the man. That was…that had been…

John nuzzled at her neck again with light kisses that made her want to twist closer. He tangled his fingers in her hair as their lips met again, suddenly determined, wanting, to make her cry out again. Still inside her, he moved slowly and opened his eyes to meet a gaze from her that dared him to try it again, yet pleaded with him not to, afraid to lose control again. He rolled away from her and was a little startled, mind still foggy, when she reached for him not to stray too far from her.

She paused for a moment, as if stunned by her own actions. Elizabeth exhaled slowly, shakily, "…John…" was all she managed to utter, cursing that her mind was still reacting too slowly to respond with anything more. But he was there…and he was…he was… She settled herself against him, closing her eyes, content to be silent.

He looped an arm around her, tangling his legs with her own, as he began to drift into a reluctant sleep.

She was sure she heard him whisper her name before sleep claimed her too.

* * *

Elizabeth woke to the feel of a warm body beside her and almost blushed with embarrassment when she remembered what had occurred only hours before. Though, she noted, with some concern, the only embarrassment she felt had nothing to do with waking up in the same bed as John Sheppard. She reached over, trying to locate her alarm clock, and slapped the offending piece of technology into silence, pausing when she heard a groan and the body tangled beside her shifted. Elizabeth lay back and waited for some form of reaction from him, suddenly feeling the urge to slam up some form of shield, anything so he couldn't see how many conflicting emotions were racing through her. She had wanted him. …Still…wanted him. But…the morning had arrived and she still had to work every day with him, pretending to be different people. Part of her desperately wanted to run and hide, pretend the whole thing had never happened, but the desire to stay in bed and see just what would happen when he saw her in the morning, defences still down, tugged at her with increasing pressure…and won. Elizabeth was suddenly terrified. She had made the same mistake before. And work had become hell for her. Did she love him? She didn't know. She was certainly attracted to him, very much so, and could see herself one day falling in love with him. But what exactly she felt for him…she didn't know. He was infuriating. He was charming. He was manipulative. He was lost. …He was everything she felt, understood what it meant to live like she did…but…oh god, she had been stupid… 

John yawned and slowly rolled over to face her, almost as hesitant as she was, "…Morning…"

"Good morning," Elizabeth answered, her voice sounding strange even to herself. She suppressed the urge to dash from her bed and away, and simply gazed across at him, hoping she wasn't looking as scared as she felt.

He gazed right back at her for several seconds, before he reached across and kissed her softly.

Her eyes fell closed and she briefly responded, thoroughly confused. He still wanted her. He was still there. He could have got up and left before she had woken. He could want her for one thing only. He could be the perfect actor.

'People always think you're acting, manipulating…' 

It was what she loved to do so she couldn't be seen. But his words had struck home. Who was she to think he was lying to her, being what she wanted him to be, when he could think the same of her? …Were they using each other to prove points about themselves?

Maybe they had both run away from the real world to hide in a fantasy. Being somebody else always seemed better than being yourself. You even had a script and a set emotional wattage.

"I'm from all over the place," John randomly stated.

"Hmmm?" Elizabeth frowned.

"You said you don't know where I'm from," he reminded her, "A little of everywhere. United States everywhere, I mean."

She smiled, shaking her head, "You pick your moments."

"I have two little sisters and I think of my best friend as my brother," he paused and glanced away for a moment, "…And I joined the USAF because it wasn't what was expected of me."

"…What was expected of you?" Elizabeth questioned, voice soft. She brought him back to her for a brief kiss, then tilted her head, frowning slightly, silently repeating her request for an answer.

"…Math," he replied, as if lost in a memory, "…A lot of math. Calculations and papers and world changing scientific theories. But that wasn't me…"

"Who are you?"

The question was simple, but one she knew she, or he, couldn't answer. She didn't expect a response, and on some level, didn't want one.

"Who are you, Elizabeth Weir?" John shot back at her, his voice quiet.

She had an answer for him. One she knew wasn't the one he wanted.

"The perfect actress," she looked away, "…I'll be whoever you think I am," Elizabeth glanced back at him, not wanting to wait for a reaction, "…We're going to be late…" she turned back her side of the duvet and quickly escaped, leaving him frozen and desperate for any response but that.

* * *

Ronon frowned at the pretty blonde woman before him, arms folded, trying to appear imposing. It didn't seem to be affecting her, "I don't care who you say you are. You've got a camera there and I want to know why." 

She sighed, "I'm here to shoot a documentary. I have permission. I'm from the BBC, run some checks," she scrabbled around in her bag for a moment, producing an official pass, "Here. See?" she folded her arms, mimicking his pose, "And if you don't let me in, I'm sure Elizabeth will recognise me."

"…Go on in," Ronon shook his head, reluctantly letting her through, "Report to McKay!" he shouted after her, belatedly.

"I know, I know…" the voice grew faint as she vanished into the maze of the theatre.

* * *

"You had every chance in the world!" John strode toward her, "You were always brave, stronger, until it came to you and me! You going to run now, Rose? Are you?" he stepped closer to her, "…Well…?" he waited for a reaction, "…Well?" 

"…You are the bane of my life…" Elizabeth said softly.

"At least I'm something in your life."

"No," she stated.

"No, what?" John pressed.

She looked up at him, "…No. I'm not going to run," she set her jaw as if trying to scare him away.

He lunged forward and kissed her then, unable to stop his thoughts wandering to the night, or rather, morning, before. John forced himself to pull away before he started kissing _her_ and not Rose, and looked down at her, a question in his gaze.

Elizabeth took a step back, "…Its only taken you twenty years to do that again…"

"…Its only taken you twenty years to let me…" he answered.

As the script dictated, they flew back together for a desperate kiss, arms tightly around each other, and continued as another two of the cast wandered onto the stage.

Bessie smiled slightly before she looked up at Carson, "…You say you never knew, Uncle Ben?"

Carson shook his head, "…No…I never suspected…him. I should have realised," he smiled back at her, "You have his eyes."

Her smile became a grin, "I know."

The same blonde figure that had challenged Ronon outside then quietly opened the door to the theatre itself and stood at the back of the stalls, taking everything in for a moment. With a slight smile, she drew the video camera from her bag, set it to a far zoom, and shot a few second of film before she put it back in her bag. She began to walk to meet the stage.

God, he was intoxicating.

Elizabeth gave herself a mental kick and wrenched herself away from him, hoping those watching would take her reaction as a brilliant performance.

"…Elizabeth…" John whispered, keeping her close, eyes closed.

Her eyes shot open in shock, a reaction she tried to hide as she stepped on his foot and rested her head on his shoulder, jolted out of character again.

"Rose…" he said, louder, shaken, hoping nobody had heard his first utterance.

"Hello? Erm, excuse me?"

Caldwell turned from his 'staff' and looked down at the blonde below the stage, "Yes?"

"Hi. I'm Aimee Weir. I'm with the BBC? Here to shoot the documentary?"

"Yes, Miss Weir!" Rodney suddenly rushed out onto the stage, "Come with me, the stairs are round the back."

"Thank you Mr McKay," she bobbed her head, "Steven Caldwell?" she nodded at Caldwell, "Thank you for letting me work here for a while. I hope I can do you all proud," Aimee smiled and quickly ran in the direction Rodney had gestured.

Elizabeth swore silently, still cradled against John.

As if she didn't have enough problems.


	11. Chapter 11

"…Well at least we got a little further through the scene without an interruption…perhaps we can go for the whole production at some point?" Caldwell muttered, "Fifteen minutes everyone, then I want you back here," he wandered off stage.

Elizabeth detached herself from John and glanced around, "…Where did Aimee go?"

"With McKay," he answered, frowning.

She glared at him, worried, "John, you can't-"

"Elizabeth!"

She whirled round to see her little sister walking across the stage. She automatically opened her arms to hug the girl, "Hello, Aimee."

"I hope you don't mind having me around for a while…you guys seemed pretty into a scene there," Aimee frowned, "But the BBC wanted me here today and here I am."

"No, not at all," Elizabeth answered, smiling slightly. She knew her words were partly a lie. Aimee was one of the few people who really could read her like a book. She knew her big sister could flick in and out of character in an instant, and it was one of the things she hated her doing. One of the reasons she had never approved of Simon. Elizabeth sighed mentally; how many attacks was she going to have to fend off from various corners this week? She straightened her shoulders and pulled away from Aimee; for as long as she was here, she was going to give the performance of her life. That one slip up she had mentioned to her really would become nothing. John who? Good friend, brilliant actor, great colleague. In her bed last night? Whatever gave anybody that idea? Attracted to him? Hell no! (Yes!)

"Everyone, this is my little sister, Aimee," she turned to introduce her, "I know some of you have met her before."

"Aye, its good to see you again," Carson smiled at her.

"I trust you aren't here to trash us to the nation," Rodney enquired, momentarily concerned.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Aimee shot him a grin, "Honestly, you guys are the best right now. You're sold out for most of your run, you know that?"

"I was unaware…" Teyla replied.

"Me too," Aiden added.

"Me three…" John mulled that over for a few moments, "Let's not disappoint the crowds then."

"Well, hopefully we'll have you introduced to the nation before anyone sees the play…" Aimee began.

"What?" Elizabeth almost snapped.

"Well, its just me. Its not a clean-cut documentary they want, they want something quick, sharp, rough…"

She hated the fact that that she suddenly wanted to associate those words with John, in all the wrong, but oh so right, ways. Elizabeth stared at the floor for a second, trying to clear out her mind. Certainly no thoughts involving the wardrobe department and those darkened rooms…

"So I've got to put it together to air the day before you start your run. If they like it, they'll show it," Aimee shrugged, "If they don't, then I guess they don't. I'll have given it a shot."

"McKay! That computer system has locked everyone out again!" Zelenka sounded particularly annoyed, shouting from backstage.

"Fix it then!" Rodney answered.

"You passcoded it!"

"I did no such thing!"

"Fine, I will just go and remove the batteries, clock and overhaul the operating system if you evidently 'did no such thing'…" he threatened.

"I'm there! I'll be right there!" Rodney turned to leave, "Have at it, shoot away," he called back to Aimee, "But I want to know you had permission from everyone to film them!" he warned.

"Yes, sir," she threw him a mock salute, smiling. Aimee checked her watch, "Anyway, didn't Mr Caldwell say you were on a break? I'll just go check the camera and leave you guys to it," she headed to the steps on one side of the stage, back to the stalls, "I'll see you later, Lizzie."

John smirked, "Lizzie?" he said softly.

Elizabeth sighed, "I'll be in my dressing room," she stated, shooting him a death glare that clearly stated 'and so better you be, or else'.

He at least had the tact to wait a minute or so before following her.

* * *

Elizabeth closed her dressing room door quietly behind them, leaning back against it for a moment, "…What were you doing…?" she asked, voice low. 

"It just happened!" he exclaimed.

"It just happened? What about when we've got several hundred people watching us and it 'just happens'?" she stressed.

John took several steps away from her, "…You think last night was a mistake," he accused.

She ran a hand through her hair, "I think last night is going to make things difficult."

"Then it was a mistake."

"I didn't say that," Elizabeth shook her head, "You don't understand."

"I would understand if you talked to me," he proposed.

She sighed, "…Not now…"

"But not never," John insisted.

She crossed the room to sit in one of the few chairs, "All I'm saying is, if it happens again, someone's going to hear. Someone's going to notice and there goes any professionalism. I told you they're going to be wary of you. If they find out, we're both for it," she looked away, "…I…" Elizabeth closed her eyes, "…Maybe we should just…"

"Just what?" he edged closed to her, "Just stop now? Whatever kind of relationship-"

She looked up at him, eyes suddenly cold, "We don't have a relationship."

He refused to give in that easily, "So last night…what was that then? Didn't take you as the kind of person to just sleep with people and be gone," he folded his arms, "And don't sit there and tell me you felt nothing last night."

Elizabeth considered it. She truly did. Maybe telling him it was just sex was a good option. Then again, there was the actual possibility that it had been just sex. She still knew little about him, well, what little he was willing to yield. But nobody had made her rush through so many emotions just with conversation than he had. There was just something about him, something she still couldn't place. Maybe she liked sparring with someone who was just as stubborn as she was. Maybe the idea of getting under his skin was as addictive as he seemed to find gleaming rare moments of honesty from her. He was interesting. He was honest and he wasn't. It scared her a little how much she wanted him to be hers.

"…I can't," at least she was honest, even if her voice was quiet, "…Last night was…"

"…Amazing," he said softly.

"But what did it solve?" Elizabeth questioned, "You just proved its caused more problems than anything…"

"Its been barely six hours since we were in your bed," John answered, "There was you in that kiss back there and you know it. You can choose to kiss somebody or you can choose to make it look like you are with as little involvement as possible."

She hung her head, "Alright, I get it. But we can't go on like-" she was interrupted by the feel of his lips on hers; when had he crept up on her like that? To stick to her point, she tried not to respond, until she twitched and couldn't help herself, "…Like this…" she finished, eyes closed.

"I don't know…I could get used to…'this'…"

"John, don't you dare…"

He kissed her again, intensely and on purpose, one hand tangled in her hair as she stood up to meet him, one hand snaking round his waist.

She was cursing herself every step of the way and suddenly frightened out of her life when she heard a knock on the door. Elizabeth jumped away from him and tried to smooth her hair back into place, "Come in."

Aiden poked his head round the door, "You're up next. Teyla and Carson are nearly done with their scene. And I don't fancy standing on stage talking to myself," he addressed John, "Oh, and Miss Weir wants a word with you," he nodded to Elizabeth and shut the door behind him.

"And that's another thing," she looked back at John, "If my sister suspects anything, its game over," she headed for the door.

"I don't know…I quite like the idea of sneaking around…" he answered, voice low.

Elizabeth was more than a little disturbed by the fact that she did too.

* * *

As rehearsal drew to a close and Elizabeth shrugged into her coat, she frowned as she heard raised voices out in the back foyer. One of them sounded distinctly like Ronon. The other worryingly like Teyla. She wandered through the doors leading to the back of the theatre and nearly took a step back at the scene before her. 

Ronon had Teyla pinned against the wall, and as Elizabeth walked in, she threw a punch that didn't seem to affect him, before she swept his feet out from under him, somehow managing to floor him.

"Teyla!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

She felt no need to explain herself, offering only, "He was speaking to me in a condescending manner…" she glared down at her target.

Ronon flipped back to his feet, "It was only condescending if you consider yourself low enough to be condescended to…" he smiled slightly.

"Do not speak to me in such a way again," she threatened.

"Don't give me reason to," he shrugged.

Teyla threw another punch that he blocked, before countering with one that clipped her jaw. She reeled back for a moment before straightening, "Being unable to block an unexpected attack is no reason to be considered inferior…"

"Who said anything about considering you inferior?" Ronon shot back, guard down, a bad move, for she landed a hit on his nose that made him curse.

"You inferred it…"

"I thought I implied it…"

Teyla realised Elizabeth was still standing there, in a minor state of shock, "We are merely sparring…" she tried to explain.

Elizabeth nodded several times, "…Sparring…got it…I'll, erm, leave you to it…" she made a quick dash for the exit, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait up!" John was only a second behind her, suddenly running for the door. He seemed undisturbed by the display of violence, "Teyla. Ronon," he nodded, then followed his leading lady.

She had no sooner got down the steps from the back entrance to the theatre, then she felt hands on her waist spin her round and back her against the opposite wall, "What the-" she began, outraged.

John looked down at her, tantalisingly close, "Hey," he grinned.

Elizabeth insisted she was angry, "Don't you ever do that again."

He seemed unrepentant, "Sorry."

"What're you doing, John?" she questioned.

"Well…" he smiled, "This, for a start…" he captured her lips with his own, in a way that made her wish she really was angry enough to shove him away, hating how weak he could make her feel in an instant.

"…For a start…" she breathed, before she kissed him roughly. Oh god, what was she doing? Why was she acting like some love struck teenager? Why did she want the man so damned much? And why did it have to be happening now?

From beyond the theatre steps, a blonde figure flicked her camera lens shut, sighing as she did so, "…Oh Lizzie, what are you getting yourself into now…?"


	12. Chapter 12

By the time they had broken apart long enough to have some sort of brief conversation, Elizabeth had declared she was hungry (he had then made a very inappropriate comment that had actually made her blush) and John had proposed that she find a decent restaurant to have dinner in.

"How much of London have you seen? There are so many 'decent' restaurants here we could be here all night," Elizabeth strode on ahead of him.

"…Not a lot…" he admitted, "I stick to the area around my flat and the area around the theatre."

She smiled, "Let's go to China Town."

"London has a China Town?"

"Best Chinese restaurants in the city."

"And there I was expecting Mexican…" John caught up with her.

"You've been here nearly a month and you haven't strayed far from your flat?" she smiled.

"Hey, I'm a guy, if I got lost it'd be losing face to ask for directions!"

Elizabeth laughed, "You mean you still can't read the tube maps?"

He looked away, "…I know the Northern line…"

"And the others?"

"…We're aren't so well acquainted…"

She shot him a grin, "Good job you've got me then, right?"

* * *

"Its just a blur of coloured lines!" John insisted as they exited the tube station, "Its like a kid scribbled all over it!" 

"I can't believe you nearly ended up at Heathrow…" Elizabeth shook her head, hiding a smile.

"It was an honest mistake!"

"It was a stupid mistake," she turned the corner from the main street and headed down an avenue.

"Lot of theatres around here," John commented.

She nodded, "Maybe we should check out some of the competition one day," she proposed.

"Sounds like a plan…"

Elizabeth looked up at the gates of China Town, "Well, you're the new guy in town, maybe you should choose where to eat…"

"You know which restaurants are likely to kill me, don't you?" he accused.

"…Maybe," she smiled.

"How about that one?" he gestured toward one on the right as they walked along.

She grimaced and shook her head, "I wouldn't…"

"I vote we go back for the lone pizza express we saw…"

"Coward."

John held his arm out before them, "Lead on then, Ms Weir."

"Thank you…" she paused and frowned, "…What rank did you reach?"

His face clouded for a moment, "…I didn't…"

Elizabeth looked back at him, hesitant, mouth open in what had begun as a hasty apology. She decided not to voice it, and so led him silently to the nearest good restaurant she could think of.

* * *

Forty minutes into their meal and Elizabeth realised she was definitely in serious trouble. If she could dismiss her…infatuation… (was that even the word?) with him as just the need for company, and, if she was blunt, her attraction to him wasn't based on a purely physical, and sexual, desire, then everything would have been a little easier. Even if he was just some arrogant actor who had decided he knew everything about her, that would have been easy to dismiss. She had no idea what kind of relationship they had, but whatever it was, she found it exciting and dangerous, and no matter how much she was determined to hate it, and him, it only made her want more. Even if she had denied it ever existed in the first place. The danger was that he might see her for who she really was, and that she wanted him to, but every time he did she desperately wanted to take the moments back. Without him around, it had been easier to play the role of leader and protector, take charge of things and be the one to turn to when something needed sorting. Now when she knew he was watching her and picking apart her every move…it just seemed…useless… But she had to have some form of control, and if it meant she fell apart on her own time, then that was how she lived. If she couldn't be the one to be relied upon she felt weak. Sometimes she wished she had adopted a stage name. Something to see in lights and in programs, something she could drop when the curtain went down… Maybe that had been her first mistake. 

But life was never that easy. She knew that. And somehow he did too. If John couldn't make her laugh and smile and just…react…like she did, like nobody had before, then perhaps she could have dismissed her behaviour as infatuation. As a girl she had had her fair share of crushes. But this man had found his way into her heart, though how deep or how far she wasn't certain, and into her bed in a matter of weeks. She never behaved like she did when around him. She had never hated someone for wanting to get to know her. …Maybe because the others had failed and she had been comfortable with the walls she put up…walls that he insisted on tearing down.

She shouldn't have slept with him. She shouldn't have surrendered herself. She shouldn't have been so honest with him. Because that was what it was going to all come down to. For those moments, he had seen her, who she really was and what emotion she was truly capable of. Walls were now a façade. Well. Everyone has their own defence mechanism. His were wit and sarcasm, charm and the ability to appear unflappable. Hers was to smile at the right moments and make out everything was always okay. Pretend she never failed and never hurt.

"What was that about checking out the competition earlier?" John questioned.

"Oh," she remembered, "Well, like you said, there are a lot of theatres around here. I just thought maybe we should check out what we're up against," Elizabeth frowned, "I know The Woman in White is being performed at the Palace Theatre…its been going for some time now. The same with We Will Rock You, but we're not exactly talking the same kind of performance as ours with that one," she smiled slightly.

"What about As You Desire Me?" he proposed.

She blinked, "Excuse me?"

"As You Desire Me?" John repeated.

"…I…" she suddenly realised he was still talking about rival productions, "Oh, yes," she glanced away for a moment, "Yes, they're saying its one of the top five in London at the moment. Scott Thomas is playing Elma. Brilliant, apparently," she grinned, "They offered the role to me at one point. I couldn't do it. I couldn't remain that lost for so many performances. Maybe that makes me a bad actress. But yes, its brilliant, so the reviews say. Playhouse Theatre."

John had to look away to stop from smiling at her little mistake. He knew exactly what she thought he meant. …Maybe that was why he had stopped resisting the temptation to say it, "Maybe we should go do some recon…"

"A good idea, I think…" Elizabeth frowned, "…You do know if we sell out and there's demand for more tickets, they'll extend our run…"

"Yeah…" he slouched in his seat and set his chopsticks down, "But you know if we do sell out, it won't be because of me."

She seemed a little shocked by his statement, "Whyever not? You landed one of the leads. You've been in other productions."

"Nothing this high profile…"

"John-"

"If we sell out, it'll be because of you. Have you read the reviews of your other productions, TV work in the run up to our opening night? They love you. They rave about the rest of the cast, sure, hell, I'm sure Carson even has a fanbase somewhere, but me? I'm just the new boy. They want me to prove myself with this."

"Then why don't you?" Elizabeth challenged.

He was silent at that, not expecting that reaction from her.

She sighed and sat up straight, flexing her shoulders, "Me? They love me? I already told you, a few years, maybe even a few months, I'll be old news. I'll be some woman who was famous for a little while because she could convince people she was somebody else, anybody else. And if I cling on for too long, I'll be some woman who should've bowed out gracefully. People see what they want to see, John, if they want to like somebody, most people will. If any of us is given a scathing review, people go to see us with damning expectations, determined not to like us. People like to be told what to think so they don't have to themselves. All we can do is try to convince them they want to like us. And when we can't any longer, then they'll damn us all to hell and say they never saw anything in us in the first place," Elizabeth sighed and took a sip of her drink, shaking her head, "That's the truth in a world of falsehood. Call me actress and I'll answer to it."

John was silent for a long moment, gazing across at her before he spoke, "…I don't think you're an actress…" he uttered.

She was suddenly defensive, folding her arms across her, "What am I then?"

He decided to choose his words carefully before continuing, "…I think you're a woman who's been badly burnt…and wants to think she can be somebody different to everyone…because its easier that way…and you can choose when to risk getting burnt again…and if you are, then you can convince yourself its all another act and you were never hurt at all…"

Elizabeth looked sharply away, as if he had burnt her himself there and then.

"But what do I know?" he continued, sounding a little bitter, "You said yourself. You'll be whoever I think you are."

She was suddenly angry, "You know nothing about me."

"I know I held you in my arms last night. I know that wasn't just sex. I know you were terrified in the morning because you knew you couldn't go back and play pretend with me anymore like you do with the others…" John replied, voice low.

"Don't talk to me about playing pretend. I know people who would kill to be able to have the self confidence you project. You have the biggest inferiority complex I've ever seen and you love to act like it isn't there. Talk about proving yourself, god, just because you failed at something doesn't mean you fail at life. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt just because you pretend it meant nothing. You know that. I know that," her voice rose, "Or why would we be trying to find sanctuary with each other when we know that we scare each other to death!" God, she wanted to kill him. No, she wanted to take him home with her and make sure she knew every inch of him, make him tell her everything that he'd never told anyone else. She just wanted to feel the same raw emotion again, giddy with fear but finally safe, "What are you afraid of, John? That you might actually be brilliant? That it might hurt if you aren't?"

"I've let people down," he insisted, angrily.

"Who hasn't? You sit there and talk about me being burnt when you can't even admit you have been too."

"And what happens when we both crash and burn?" John demanded.

She exhaled slowly, "Then we know we were both honest," Elizabeth stood up, setting a few notes down in the middle of the table, "That's my half. I'll see you in the morning," she began to walk away.

"Elizabeth!" he gripped her arm as she walked past him, knowing it was a mistake when she glared angrily down at him.

John stood up, matching her expression, before he held her forcefully to him and kissed her almost violently. Well aware that they were being observed, he broke away, "Stay…" he uttered, voice rough.

She shook her head, "…This is playing with fire…"

"Afraid now?"

"As scared as you are, John Sheppard. And that's why I'll see you in the morning," Elizabeth strode away and out of the restaurant without looking back.


	13. Chapter 13

When she arrived at the theatre the next morning, Elizabeth was a tad concerned to have been beaten to it by her little sister, who sat on the back steps of the exit, camera in one hand, coffee in the other.

"I just hope you don't try to refocus the coffee," she smiled as she approached.

Aimee looked up, looking a little dishevelled, "I already took thirty seconds of footage of my feet this morning," she mumbled, "the coffee turned out to be an essential."

"And I thought I was the one of us who hated mornings," Elizabeth replied, slowly traipsing up the steps.

"I still say Andrew and Nathan beat either one of us," she spoke of their two older brothers. Aimee took a sip of her coffee, "You okay to be interviewed today?"

Her sister nodded hesitantly, not being a great fan of cameras. She did interviews when required and public appearances when she had to, but otherwise she preferred just to be seen as just another woman on the street. She appreciated the pay cheques and loved her line of work, it was just that, well…fame, in itself, most often didn't agree with her. Elizabeth knew enough of her life was false already, she didn't need to be reminded of it by seeing herself with a set in place smile everywhere.

"Yes. Are you going round everyone today?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Aimee nodded, "Well, hopefully. I figure people are going to be busy, so I'll just shoot some footage of how the theatre works, you know, that sort of thing."

"A word of advice?"

"Sure."

"When you get to Rodney, appeal to his ego. You're likely to get more out of him then. Though how much of it'll be useable I can't say," Elizabeth smiled. She was genuinely fond of McKay and honestly did love working with the man, but after several years of on and off work together, she knew praise was most likely to get the best from him.

Aimee laughed, "I figured that when I met him."

"I'll see you later," she opened the first door to the exit of the theatre, swiped her card to get through the second, and walked inside, letting the heavy metal door clang behind her. Elizabeth had no sooner reached the many corridors of backstage, when she felt hands on her shoulders that suddenly pressed her back against the wall.

"Hi," John kissed her gently.

She smiled slightly, "Hi yourself."

"…I'm sorry about yesterday evening…"

Elizabeth shook her head, "I'm not."

He tilted his head, a question in his eyes.

"Because otherwise I wouldn't be speaking to you this morning. And I don't think either of us would have said what we did otherwise."

"So this means…"

"I don't know what it means," Elizabeth sighed, "But I do know we have less than a week until our opening night, so we'd better-"

"Get some work done," he finished for her. John nodded, "I get that. Let's go show them what we've got."  
She grinned for a moment at that, "Well…maybe not everything we've got."

He walked on ahead of her, "Work hard, play hard…"

"…John?"

"Hmmm?"

"…You're crazy, you know that?"

He smiled as he continued down the corridor, "As crazy as you are, Elizabeth Weir."

* * *

"I don't understand, why would he be behaving like that if they hadn't had a fight? They've been best friends for years, since they were children, Rose was always like an older sister to me!" Teyla paced back and forth across the stage, occasionally glancing at Lorne, who stood to one side, arms folded, watching her. 

"I think the more pressing question is why is Rose going away for a while…" he answered.

"Exactly! Mark looks like he just lost his best friend…and he is losing her!"

"Its only for a few months…"

"She told us she was going to visit family. A visit is a few days. Not a number of months," Teyla sighed and stopped pacing, "Something's hurt him, he's my big brother and something's hurt him badly. I just want to know what it is…and why she is vanishing at a time like this…"

"Mary, love, you're just going to get more worked up about this if you don't-"

"That's right. I'm going to go see him," Teyla grabbed a coat that hung on the side of the stage.

"Mary, you can't just go and demand answers!" Lorne insisted.

She hesitated, stepping back for a moment, "…You're right…" she shook her head, "…I know…" she walked back along the length of the stage to meet him, "I'm sorry…" she kissed him on the cheek, "…But its what I must do. I have to try to comfort him. I will see you in a few hours," Teyla rushed off stage.

He sighed and let his shoulders sag, "…Why is it always the women running rings around us?" he asked aloud, before he too took his exit.

"Nicely done," Elizabeth smiled to him as he walked past her.

"Thanks," he shot her a grin, "Just gotta hope none of us trip up on our opening night now, right?"

"I think we're pretty close to getting it all right, yes."

"Elizabeth!" John's voice was heard from behind them, "You remember Sora don't you?"

A young girl of around ten years old, with strawberry blonde hair that fell in curls, stood in front of him, smiling, "Hi."

"Hey there. You back for rehearsal?"

Sora nodded, "I've been with the understudies since I was last here. They're rehearsing in a theatre across town. They said they came here last week to work with you all some more?"

"That's right," Elizabeth nodded. She frowned, "You challenged Teyla to a fight last time you were here, didn't you?"

The girl giggled, "I did. I was only joking though…"

John grinned, "I wouldn't try it again. She can take Ronon. Apparently."

Lorne stared, "…She can take Ronon?"

"Yep."

"…Won't be crossing her anytime soon…" he shook his head, a little stunned, and headed further backstage.

Sora frowned, "We don't have anyone playing my step-father do we?"

"No, the script was written for him always to be an offstage voice or shadow…" Elizabeth answered, "Apparently nobody's ever supposed to see the man who stole Rose's heart after Mark…"

"Rightly so. She should never have pushed him away in the first place," John smirked.

"What, because he's handsome, charming and a know it all?" she countered.

"Something like that," he had the grace to look away, knowing she was aiming her comments at him.

Elizabeth smiled slightly, "Anyway, Sora, I think we're on next."

"Rightly so, Ms Weir!" Caldwell called out from the stalls.

Sora ran out onto the stage ahead of her colleague, "Yes, sir!"

About to step forward, Elizabeth jumped as she felt arms around her waist hold her back and heard a low voice in her ear.

"…You know, I always was fascinated by fire…"

She leant back against him and tilted her head to look back at him as one of his hands shifted to trace her spine, "…Let's hope you can handle the heat then…" she mimicked his smirk and quickly made her escape, flexing her shoulders and shivering as she moved onto the stage.

* * *

"So how's the production going?" Aimee followed her target around, camera held up, trying to stay in focus. 

"We're nearly all done, I think. Its been a lot of work," Bessie answered, "Some of us have worked together before, some of us haven't. And the theatre was recently redesigned, so we had that to get used to as well. Considering we've gone straight on from the last production here, I think we've done well so far," she frowned as she plucked her script from a nearby chair.

"What're you doing?"

"Oh," she looked up at the camera, not sure she wanted to make eye contact with it, "Well, the little girl we have playing young Harmony has a certain way of stringing together some words, you know, with a different inflection as well. I just thought it might work if I tried having some of it in older Harmony, but phase it out when she gets into her twenties."

"You play Harmony from fifteen to twenty two, right?"

"Yeah."

"How old are you?" Aimee questioned.

Bessie smiled ruefully, "If you must know. I'm twenty six."

"You look very young for your age."

"So its been said."

"What do you think of your fellow cast members?" she dared to ask.

Bessie hesitated, "…What I think of them?" she frowned, "I think they're like my family. We work well together. Sometimes we don't all get on, but that's life, right? I love the cast we've got going right now. And the crew are wonderful. We'd be lost without them."

Aimee paused, "…What do you think of John Sheppard?" she asked the question because she knew it would be expected of her, as John had stolen the male lead from a lot of higher profile names, and knew all eyes would be on him when the curtain went up. But she knew that wasn't her only reason. Her main reason was that she had caught him kissing her sister…and she wasn't sure what exactly Elizabeth was doing by being remotely involved with the man.

The actress shrugged, with a smile, "I think he's a good man. Great actor. Should've seen him on our first read through. Can be a bit closed off sometimes, but he's a laugh and he's sure as hell charismatic," she shrugged again, "what can I say, I only work with him."

"But you like him?" Aimee pressed.

Bessie turned the page of her script and walked from the room, "Yeah, I guess. I don't think there's anyone here who's taken a dislike to him. He pulls his weight, he's good to work with. I think we all like him," she let the door swing shut behind her.

She flicked the camera shut and sighed, "…Good man…got it…" she shook her head, "Let's hope Lizzie thinks so…"

* * *

As rehearsal for the day drew to a close, Elizabeth wandered along the corridors of the wardrobe department, yawning, glad that the day was finally over. She had seen Sora safely to her mother, who awaited her daughter on the theatre steps, and returned to watch John and Bessie running through one of the final scenes of the play. She had wondered why Aimee had been filming it, but figured she must need stock footage, and so let it slide without asking. After bidding goodnight to her sister, she was only intent on claiming her bag from somewhere she remembered abandoning it in wardrobe, and going home to a night of TV and sleep. Just anything to let her shut off for the night and get some rest. 

When a door opened in front of her and an arm dragged her inside, she knew it wasn't to be. Not that she was complaining after the initial shock.

"Hey," John smiled down at her, holding her tight against him.

"Hello…" she frowned for a second, before her eyes fell closed as he kissed her, "…You don't give up, do you…?" she uttered.

"Nope…"

Elizabeth tilted her head and leant into him as he nuzzled at her neck, "…That was a brilliant scene you did earlier…" she sounded rather distracted, "…You are brilliant, you know that?"

He paused for a long moment, hesitating as she slid an arm around his neck and into his hair, "…I bet you say that to every leading man you work with…" he knew the comment was bound to provoke her, and somewhat eagerly awaited even an angry reaction to it.

She opened her eyes and leaned back to look him in the eye, "…No, John. Only when its true. And…" she shook her head slightly and kissed him again, '_only to you…'_ Elizabeth halted and glanced around for a moment, "…is this one of wardrobe's storage areas?"

"You mean are we making out in a closet?"

She shot him a glare, unable to keep the smile from her eyes.

His lips met hers again, "…Then yes we are…"

* * *

"_What do you think of John Sheppard?"_

"_I think he's a good man. Great actor. Should've seen him on our first read through. Can be a bit closed off sometimes, but he's a laugh and he's sure as hell charismatic…"_

She fast-forwarded the tape for a minute or so, then hit play again.

"_What do you think of John Sheppard?"_

"_He's fun to work with, makes us laugh. You can see why he got the lead in this,"_ Aiden answered.

Aimee sighed and swept through some more of the tape.

"_What about John Sheppard? You like him?"_

"_Aye, he's a great actor. I'd like to say I call him a friend. He hasn't let us down. He gets on well with all of us,"_ Carson shrugged, "_He seems to be a gentleman."_

More tape.

"_How do you feel about John Sheppard?"_

"_He puts us at ease. He is not a hassle to work with, nor is he intimidating. I think he likes to have fun at work as much as we do. I'm glad of the opportunity to work alongside him,_" Teyla smiled as she escaped the camera.

"_Your new leading man, how is he working out?"_

"_John? Good guy. Bit annoying at times. He likes to mess with the computer system when we're not looking. But he fits right in. And seems to have good chemistry with Elizabeth on stage, so we can hardly complain," _Rodney replied.

Aimee sighed again, heavily, and threw her remote in the general direction of her TV as she collapsed back onto her sofa. So she'd spent most of the day enquiring about John Sheppard. Damnit. But she had to make sure…she had to…she didn't know. Make sure Elizabeth didn't make another mistake. Simon had been bad for her, and not just when he had left her. He had been the excuse Elizabeth had used to not find somebody she could love, really love, passionately, not comfortably. What she had seen of her sister with John…she didn't know what to call it. She didn't even know if she loved him. They could just have been venting frustration built up on stage for all she knew. Aimee leant forward and took the tape from her camera, disconnecting it from the TV. She wearily stood up and headed to her computer to transfer the footage.

She just hoped the woman John saw was really Elizabeth and not some jumble of roles built up over the years. Maybe that would teach her sister that there wasn't a role to fall into for every situation.


	14. Chapter 14

The evening of two days later found Elizabeth and John back in China Town, after a complete run through of the play being shadowed by their understudies. The day hadn't got off to the best of starts, considering most of the cast and crew, including the two of them, had been rather hung over after a late night out on the town. Elizabeth had been all for hiding in a darkened room and letting her understudy work for the day. The whole thing had been rather amusing for Kate, who had laughed at the sickened looks she received whenever one of the cast had to pass by the bar. It hadn't been so much fun for Bessie, who had taken them all to the bars and clubs in the first place. Sora and her understudy bouncing about the stage had been rather frustrating for all of them. Teyla had almost flattened the girl when she jokingly challenged her to a fight again.

"…I think the headache's finally gone…" Elizabeth rested her elbows on the table and leant heavily on them, "…Did you see Cadlwell actually smiling this morning? I swear he was enjoying our pain…"

"That'll teach you to down three double gin and lemonades in a row…and then forget the lemonade entirely…before you hit the hard stuff…" John teased, "I thought you only pretended to drink…"

"This from Mr 'I'll have a triple vodka and coke'," she mumbled, "and then 'I'll order the ingredients for a drink that a barman can't legally serve and mix it myself when he isn't looking…'"

"If you remember correctly, Laura and Bessie started that…"

"I don't remember a lot correctly…" she moaned.

"You have to admit, drunken Teyla and Ronon were funny…" he grinned.

Elizabeth laughed, "That I remember. Who won their little competition in the end?"

"Who knows? I saw them line the shots up and I saw them down some of them, then I didn't see either for a while…"

"Interesting…"

John took a sip of his drink, "Well, Ronon was smiling this morning despite the hangover, so I think we have to assume something happened there…"

"And because we both ended up practically unconscious back at yours, you don't think people are thinking the same of us?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, but something did happen there…or is happening there…"

"You mean when I grabbed you and swore I was going to kill you for doing this to me?"

"Was that what you said before I blacked out?"

Elizabeth grinned and remained silent.

"Please tell me you people don't party after the opening night…"

She folded her arms and leant back in her chair, smirking.

"Oh dear god…" John covered his face with his hands.

"Hate to break it to you John, but last night was training compared to what's likely to hit us on the opening night…unless we can escape, or, as is usually my plan, pretending to drink, as you mentioned."

He frowned, "Maybe this is a strange thought, but don't you ever wonder why all the critics and reviewers always have to be there on the opening night? Wouldn't it make more sense to let us…I don't know, get into the swing of things, and _then_ tear us apart if they want, rather than jump on us for errors on the first 'proper' performance?"

Elizabeth shrugged, "Just how it works, I suppose."

"I got a phone call about a TV interview today. Some breakfast show or something," he grimaced.

"Really? What did you say?"

He twitched his shoulders, "I said I'd get back to them tomorrow. They'd want me there on Monday morning. Two days before we open."

She smiled slightly, "I'd do it, John."

"Why?"

"Why not let people get to know you, see you around, before they book or judge?"

"So I can have more people introducing me as 'that nobody'?"

"You've done TV before," she answered, stubbornly.

"I've done TV shows before. Very few people have ever felt the need to interview me," he corrected.

"You think I like having my little sister sticking a camera in my face at every opportunity?" Elizabeth picked up her chopsticks and poked at the noodles in her bowl experimentally, "People are going to want to interview you, especially after the opening. You dealt with the interviewers who came to the theatre," she reminded him.

"…I guess."

She shot him a weary glance, "Like I said, biggest inferiority complex I've ever seen."

"You chose to be an actress. I was booted out and told it might be a good road to follow," John muttered.

Elizabeth looked away, staring everywhere but at him for several minutes as they sat eating in silence. She finally set her chopsticks down and leant back on the table, "Do you really resent acting that much?"

"I don't resent it," he stated.

"But you resent having to be an actor?"

"I didn't have to be an actor."

She sighed, "…Come on, just give me something here. No audience, no director, nobody's watching. Its just me. I sure as hell know you think I'm a threat, because I think the same of you half the time, but that's my honesty, right there. Just give me something. What did you want to do with your life? If you could have done anything?"

"Elizabeth-"

"Come on, John. Neither of us ended up like this because we 'wanted' to. Doesn't mean we don't love it or want to do everything over again. I love being an actress. So it wasn't my first plan, doesn't mean I'd change it for anything."

He regarded her with a dark expression for a long moment before he began to speak, "…I wanted to fly."

"Fly fighters and planes?" she pressed.

John nodded, "Back when I had the mind for mathematics. You have to be able to calculate, and damn quickly, to be a decent pilot. They thought I could handle it…" he trailed off.

She almost reached across the table to him, then thought better of it.

"But hey, who wants a pilot you can't read?" he continued, voice all too perky.

"…And who wants a diplomat who knows she's in a room of actors?"

They finished their meal in silence.

* * *

It was when they were heading through Leicester Square that Elizabeth finally spoke again. 

"…You want to check out the competition?"

John glanced at his watch, "Now?

"Not now. I mean get tickets."

"I thought they were booked up."

She shook her head, "You can get discounted tickets around here. Awful seats, but that's what you get for not booking. We could probably find somewhere for tomorrow night."

"If you want, let's go for it," he answered, "could drop a few comments during that breakfast show."

"Sabotage?" she pretended to be shocked.

"Never," he shot her a brief smile, "As You Desire Me?" he continued.

Elizabeth had to stop herself smiling when he mentioned the production again, "…There are too many answers to that…" she shook her head, "But yes, if we can get tickets. I wouldn't mind seeing how Scott Thomas plays Elma."

"You mean compared to how you would have played her…"

"Never," she took her mobile phone from her pocket, glancing across the square to enter two numbers of different agencies into it, "I'll phone them in the morning. I don't particularly relish the thought of fighting my way through any packed tourist lines right now."

"Hey! That's Elizabeth Weir!"

She took a step back and bumped into John, who steadied her. Looking warily around the square, she tried to locate the voice, breaking into an automatic smile a few seconds later, knowing she was being observed.

"Ms Weir?" a group of young men and women, who appeared to be in their early twenties, approached them cautiously.

"You can make a run for it…" John mumbled into her hair.

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling again, "Yes?"

"I knew it was you!" one of the girls smacked one of her friends on the shoulder, "Its nice to meet you," she looked up at John, "Oh…I recognise you…"

"John," he began.

"John Sheppard," another of the group finished, "Everyone's talking about you."

He frowned, "…They are?"

"Of course! You beat out a lot of people for your part!"

"Would you mind signing this?" the first girl held out a small notebook, suddenly shy.

"Not at all," Elizabeth searched for pen in her bag, then quickly signed her name, "There you go."

The girl then surprised John by holding it out to him, "Would you mind, Mr Sheppard?"

"I, erm, sure," he took the pen Elizabeth offered and signed his name beside hers.

"Thank you very much!" she reclaimed her book and looked up at her companions, then checked her watch, "Oh god, we're going to be late!"

"Nice meeting you!" one of them waved as they started to move off.

"Thank you!" another shouted.

"Good luck with your opening!" a third smiled.

John was staring after them, a little stunned, until Elizabeth nudged him.

"Well. 'Mr Nobody', is it?" she smirked, "I'd say those girls liked what they saw," she teased.

"Enough of that," he nudged her back, "You think I didn't see those guys' eyes wander?"

Elizabeth smiled and continued on through the square, "Welcome to the world of lust and fame, 'Mr Sheppard'."

* * *

Elizabeth returned home, alone, to find a message on her answer phone.

"_Elizabeth? Its Aimee. I just wanted to talk to you before I send this tape off to the BBC. Well, take it to the BBC anyway. Its nearly done, I just need a few more minutes to piece together. I don't mean I want to film you, I just want to chat. I thought being at the theatre meant we could spend some time together, but we've both been so busy it hasn't worked out like that. I miss you Lizzie. I'll see you tomorrow morning sometime."_

That was another thing that had been worrying her. Having another 'Weir' on the credits of the documentary was sure to bring trouble, so she thought. If Aimee praised the play and the cast too highly, she would be accused of bias. Elizabeth almost hoped she would trash them. But she knew Aimee was exceptionally good at her work, otherwise she wouldn't have been sent, or be expected to handle the filming of a documentary, with such a quick deadline. As she went to bed, she pushed aside the thought that there was an apprehensive quality to her sister's voice that unnerved her.

* * *

Mid morning break the next day and John was ready to pounce, waiting for Elizabeth to leave the stage after an extended scene with Sora. As the little girl left the stage, he grabbed her as she ran past, swung her round and into the air until she screamed with laughter, then set her down again. Sora beamed up at him before she ran off backstage, leaving Elizabeth behind her, leaning against the wall, smiling. 

"And secretly good with kids," she walked past him, feigning reluctance as he grabbed her round her waist and hauled her back to him.

"And secretly pursuing…" John paused, frowning.

"Something?" she attempted to provide a word.

"With Elizabeth Weir," he finished, kissing her, "…Though she claims we have no relationship…"

Elizabeth kissed him hungrily, a grip on his shirt, "…We don't have a relationship," she insisted, taunting him.

"We just have-"

"Something," she finished.

"Something'll do for now," he kissed her again.

In all honesty, Aimee had only been standing aside the stage to film Sora running off, wanting to capture the little girl's enthusiasm, and finally slammed the capture portion of her camera back against the main unit, having captured more than she had intended. She sank back against the wall, sighing and shaking her head. She was going to hate herself in a few days time. More than she did already. But she'd come too far to go back. She coughed loudly and strode out from her vantage point, pretending to be fiddling with the camera. When she looked up again, her subjects had, thankfully, jumped apart, "Hi. Sorry, I just had to get a shot that sliced backstage and the stage itself," she smiled and ran a hand through her blonde hair, "Lizzie, could I talk to you later?"

"Sure," Elizabeth answered, effortlessly slipping into a 'cool, calm and collected' persona.

"Thanks," she wandered further backstage.

Once her sister was out of sight, she turned wild eyes on John, "Do you think she saw?"

"I wouldn't say so," he answered, "I think she would've said something if she had. She seems the honest sort."

"John, if she saw-"

"Ms Weir! Mr Sheppard! Miss Wyatt! Keep to schedule please!" Caldwell called from the stage.

"Then she saw," John replied, "and there's nothing we can do," he gave her a little push toward the stage."

Elizabeth was so shaken she instantly took shelter and became Rose as she stepped on stage.


	15. Chapter 15

Notes: Currently this is set to end on Chapter 18, with one-shots there after, which will be posted at LJ.

* * *

"Have you seen Ronon?" 

Lunchtime that day and nearly every member of the cast had been asked that question by an unnaturally anxious Teyla. The young woman sighed as she received another negative answer from Carson, then broke into a run from the stage itself, headed for the main area of the theatre. As she ran, Aiden caught her arm, making her automatically swing for him. Thankfully, having known her long enough to know she would do so, he ducked and blocked, holding her at arms length.

"Woah, what's going on?" he asked.

"Have you seen Ronon?"

"He just got on his break. Why?" Aiden continued, frowning.

"I have to speak with him…" she trailed off, "…it is a matter of great importance."

He looked her over, as if checking her for bruises, "He beat you last match or something?"

Teyla shook her head, "I beat him. But that is not of great consequence," she seemed distracted.

"Where did you two vanish to the other night? One minute you guys were at the bar, the next…"

"…We left the bar," she began, hesitant, "…and that is why I must speak with him," she made to move off but found herself held in place. She could have easily broken free, but decided to humour him.

"Are you okay?" Aiden questioned, concerned.

Teyla smiled slightly, "I am fine," she rested a hand on his arm, "I would tell you if that was not the case, would I not?" had it been anyone else, she would have most likely brushed their concerns aside. But after working together for a still relatively unknown television show for a year together, they had grown close. Having no siblings of her own, she honestly did consider him to be a brother of sorts. Younger, perhaps. When he always played big brother to her.

"I know, I know," he nodded, "Doesn't stop me worrying. In a non-patronising kinda way. Hopefully. Hey, Ronon might be a big guy, but it doesn't mean I wouldn't throw a punch or two his way…"

"You would not stand a chance," she teased.

"But at least I would try…"

She nodded, "I know. I appreciate the thought. But I must go find him," she headed off down the corridor.

"Good luck!" Aiden shouted after her.

Teyla didn't even glance back at him as she broke back into a run, rushing through the double doors that led through to the foyer and bar. She halted and glanced up at the staircases and landing above her, then decided to head for the theatre restaurant downstairs. Once there, she peered through one of the highly polished glass doors to try and locate her target. She caught sight of him stepped away from the door. Teyla shook her head, mocking herself, and wandered through the doors, headed straight for him. Sliding into the available seat opposite, she took a deep breath, "We…have things to discuss…"

Ronon gazed across at her for a moment, perhaps a hint of apprehension on his features, "We do."

"I-"

"I apologise for my behaviour," he stated, "You have every right to be angry. And if you want to forget it-"

"No," Teyla forcefully interrupted, "I did not seek you out for an apology," she paused, "…I only wish to…understand what happens now. Do not apologise," she stared at the table for a moment, "I only left in the morning as I was late for rehearsal. Intoxicated or otherwise, we both made the choice…and I was rather…insistent…" her voice grew quiet.

"I challenged you to the drinking," Ronon answered.

"I did not have to take up the challenge," she countered.

"I took advantage-"

"We both took advantage."

He smiled ever so slightly, "Not going to let me take the blame for this, are you?"

Teyla shot him a brief grin, "No."

"So do I still call you my sparring partner?"

"That depends on how, why and where we're sparring…"

* * *

During a lull in rehearsal, whilst Bessie ran through and studied scenes with Sora and her understudy, Elizabeth retreated to her dressing room. Still a little shocked, she didn't notice she had been sitting semi-collapsed in one of the chairs by the main mirror for nearly half an hour, until a knock at her door jolted her back to reality. About to state she was busy or tired, the door opened directly after the knock. The angry exclamation on her lips died as soon as she caught sight of John, fading into a frustrated sigh. 

He closed the door quietly behind him, "Don't worry, you're still safe, for now. Caldwell's taken up the idea of more similarities between young and older Harmony. Bit late for it, but they're still running through scenes."

She nodded silently.

John sighed, "…If she saw us then she saw us…" he stated, as if reading her mind, "We can't exactly do anything about it…"

"I thought about stealing the memory card from her camera and formatting it actually," Elizabeth replied, covering her eyes with one hand for a second.

"But you wont."

She exhaled slowly, "Remind me why exactly?"

"Because she's your sister and you don't want her to fail?"

"Ah, that."

"Yes, that," John echoed, "So you should trust that she thinks the same for you."

"I do…I do…" she shook her head, "…Its just…if she does have any…interesting footage…then…we'll never live it down if any of it gets shown."

"And why would anyone be interested in whether or not we're strictly professional?"

"We have to look as if we're professional and nothing but," Elizabeth snapped, standing up.

He reached for her, hands resting on her hips, "Relax…"

She glared angrily at him and almost twitched in a demand for him to move away.

John shook his head, "…Not going to work…" he dared to smile at her, "Saw that look around…an hour ago? Rose versus Mark, strike two."

She made a low noise in her throat before she advanced toward him, pushing him backward, "I'm sure you didn't see this one," she brushed her lips against his, edging away as his arms slid round her waist, smiling deviously when he snatched her back to him.

"No…but I think this one should be practised more often…" he kissed her more forcefully as he hit the wall, hands sliding under her blouse as she arched into his touch, eyes closed. She kept a grip on his shirt, sliding one hand downward, fumbling briefly with the waist of his trousers and laughing mischievously against his lips when he uttered her name as he exhaled. She shifted her hand and pressed herself against him, mind suddenly blank as he continued to kiss her with a rough hunger, hands roaming her body, flooding her senses.

They both missed the first knock at the door.

And were grateful there was a second and someone hadn't just wandered in uninvited.

Elizabeth tore herself away with a groan, startled when he rested his arms round her waist to keep her escaping entirely, "Who is it?"

"Rodney. Your sister's been looking for your for the past ten minutes. Teyla and Aiden are on next, you might want to get out here."

"As opposed to getting off in here…" John mumbled.

"I'll be right there," her pause was barely noticeable.

"Right you are," Rodney replied through the door, wandering off down the corridor.

She sighed and tried to straightened her blouse, returning a slow embrace at the same time.

"Stay…" he murmured.

"…Can't…" Elizabeth finally stepped away. She adjusted her clothes and ran a hand through her hair, raising an eyebrow. She smirked, "Better start thinking of life in a freezer…" she glanced pointedly downward and quickly left the room.

"Your fault," was John's late parting shot.

* * *

"Lizzie!" Aimee shouted across the main foyer, from the bar door, "Lizzie? I…" she looked away, "Can we talk?" 

Elizabeth nodded, slowly, "Of course," she headed for the door and entered the bar after her sister. They took a seat in the corner, "…What's wrong?" she feigned innocence.

"…Is it serious?" Aimee questioned, voice quiet.

"Excuse me?"

"You. You and John. Was what I saw some twisted take on a scene, dissolving tension, a first kiss, what?"

It was a test. Of sorts. So her little sister thought. She had seen them more than once. But then, even growing up, Elizabeth had always been a brilliant actress. Pretended the break-up of long term relationships didn't hurt, that she wasn't worried or hurt by their parents' words if she didn't do so well on a test, that she didn't care she was mocked more for never reacting to taunting. She'd never been on stage, but had always given a top class performance. Rarely seen without her mask. To defend herself, Elizabeth wouldn't think twice about lying to her sister…and it wasn't a matter of cruelty…it was a matter of protection. Her and her entire world. So. If she was honest, Aimee had no idea how far they had gone. Was Elizabeth even kidding herself that she had nothing to do with this man? But would she at least be honest and say she and John were involved on some level?

"…It just happened," Elizabeth started.

Apparently not.

"And when you said you kissed him before? Really kissed him? It's just happened twice then?" Aimee pressed.

"Strictly professional. It happens when working in close quarters, day in, day out. Especially with the scenes we have to do," she tried to explain.

"And how did it start with Simon?"

"He asked me to a restaurant?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Lizzie. Look, I'm not going to vet him or savage him or tell you you're being stupid. I just don't want to see you get hurt again…and you have to admit the circumstances seem very similar…leading man and all…" Aimee sighed, "I just want to know if my big sister has a decent man in her life!"

Put like that…sibling pressure and all…it was very tempting to tell her the truth. But…but…she had no idea what was going on herself. Was she supposed to confess undying love for the man? Say she'd been seeing him for a few weeks? If that? And then there was the media threat. Not that that was particularly high…well, reasonably high…on her list of reasons. If and when she got hurt again, she didn't want the sympathy. She wanted to carry on like always and pretend nothing ever touched her.

"…We have a working relationship and have had a couple of lapses. There's nothing going on, Aimee. Nothing that counts and nothing that's important, okay? Nothing to be worried about," Elizabeth glanced at her watch, "I'll be wanted back on stage," she stood up and kissed her sister on the cheek, "I'll see you later," she walked swiftly from the room.

Aimee hung her head, "…Forgive me, Lizzie…" she whispered, eyes closed, "…Its for your own good…"


	16. Chapter 16

Three days later, one night before their opening, John and Elizabeth made their way through the streets of London after 'checking out the competition' as they had been calling it.

"Well that was a mistake…" he commented.

"Well…its nice to know what we're up against…imagine if they had been awful? Would've made us overconfident…" she replied.

"Overconfident I like. Overconfident is good. Being laughed out of the theatre…not so much…"

"If I thought you truly believed that, I'd kick some sense into you…"

"You and the rest of them," John grinned.

She smiled and stared at the floor, "…I had a good time tonight…" she sighed and laughed for a moment, "Here's to a decent opening night tomorrow!"

He stopped her in the middle of the street, hands on her hips, "Me too," John smiled, "Well, to both."

Elizabeth tilted her head and bit down on her bottom lip for a moment, "…Do you want to…come back to mine?"

He kissed her question away with an affirmative answer.

* * *

They were lying tangled on her sofa, clothes strewn around the room, drifting in and out of consciousness, barely covered by the throw on her couch, when John remembered about the documentary airing. As the BBC News ended, he reached lazily for the TV remote to turn the volume up. Elizabeth stirred beside him and smiled sleepily as he pressed a kiss to her cheekbone, murmuring a question of why he'd turned the volume up. 

"The documentary. Aimee's documentary," he answered. He slid an arm around her waist as she tensed, "Relax…she's your sister…she's not going to make any of us look bad…"

She exhaled slowly and nodded, "…I know…" she turned away from him to stare at the TV as the announcer introduced the piece, "…I know…"

"'_The Way You Wanted Me'. Performances are set to start in London tomorrow evening, with a mostly well known cast headed by Ms Elizabeth Weir, and a relative newcomer to the scene, Mr John Sheppard. With a script edited and highlighted from a top selling book, can the cast bring to life the characters book groups were raving about? Here's hoping so, as tickets for most of their run have already been sold to those eagerly awaiting a reality to the book. This brief documentary hopes to introduce you to the characters and their actors, including their lives and work behind the scenes of 'The Way You Wanted Me'."_

"She's not bad," John commented.

"We'll see…" Elizabeth replied, voice low.

"_Rose Henshaw. A woman afraid of her own heart, or a woman afraid of getting too close to someone? Nobody can doubt she does whatever she feels necessary to provide her daughter with a decent home and loving family. But what toll does so many years of lying take, on Rose herself, and Harmony?" the split scenes and brief shots of the introduction faded to a shot on an oblivious Elizabeth, waiting offstage, "Elizabeth Weir, known for playing emotionally intense roles, on TV or on stage, strong women with stronger hearts. No doubt Rose is one of these women, but how will she handle Rose's cold hearted behaviour toward the love of her life?"_

Elizabeth clenched her jaw tight as the shot of her faded to one of her and John involved in a deep embrace on stage, one they broke away from, laughing as a paper aeroplane flew past them, Aiden laughing loudly as he reclaimed itas Caldwell suddenly shouted angry instructions that only made the cast laugh louder. _The footage faded again to Elizabeth, rummaging through the rails in the wardrobe department, trying to find better skirt for the wedding scene._

"_Do you think Rose is right treating Mark in such a manner?"_

_Elizabeth halted, "…I don't know. She does what she thinks is right for the both of them, so in that respect, she's right. For herself, what she believes, that is. Later, when she has no excuse for hiding…when she knows how she feels and she still can't do anything about it…then you have to wonder. And with Harmony…she did what she thought she had to do. No matter if it was a lie…"_

"_And then there's Mark Fynn. Rose's best friend, main male character and man who held out for the woman he loved until the end. John Sheppard, known more for his TV appearances in the US than theatre work, stunned the casting staff of the production with his audition to beat out several very, very famous names for his role. Having seen the man in question in rehearsal I have to say he seems rather perfect for the role."_

John smiled slightly at that.

The woman beside him shifted uneasily, "…High praise…"

_John paced along the stage before shoving Carson away from him, whilst the scene changed to one ofhim reading his script, pacing back and forth backstage._

"_Do you think he loves her all that time?" Aimee questioned._

_John looked up from his script, "I think he loves her on some level for the whole play. He just tells himself he can't and tries to convince himself that she doesn't return his feelings. He tries to think of it as one drunken night, but he's really cut up when he discovers all the lies…"_

"_Our two leads have never worked together before, but apparently a lot of the cast have worked together on other productions, television or otherwise, and certainly the theatre staff seem enthusiastic about working with the current cast. But how does everyone get on behind the scenes?" Aimee continued. The scene switched to one of Bessie, distracted, script in hand._

"_So how's the production going?"_

"_We're nearly all done, I think. Its been a lot of work," Bessie answered, "Some of us have worked together before, some of us haven't. And the theatre was recently redesigned, so we had that to get used to as well. Considering we've gone straight on from the last production here, I think we've done well so far."_

"_Get back here!" Rodney's outraged cry was suddenly heard before he was seen on the screen._

"_I didn't do it!" John ran down the corridor, laughing._

"_Catch!" Aiden's voice was heard as he threw a cable down the corridor after him._

_He paused as he caught it, trying to gauge the expression on Rodney's face, "…Okay…so maybe I was involved…"_

"_Sheppard!" McKay shouted after him._

"_Bye…!" Aiden broke into a run._

_Elizabeth was seen at the edge of the screen, unaware she had walked into a battle scene, "What the…?"_

"_Some of you may recognise familiar faces such as Carson Beckett and Bessie Wyatt in this production. Newcomers such as Teyla Emmagan and Aiden Ford are new to the stage but not to TV, andhope to make their mark on the London theatre scene. We've seen they seem to all enjoy working together as a team, but how do our two leads get on together, on and off the stage?"_

_The footage of the cast laughing together backstage faded to a scene of Rose and Mark._

"_That's no excuse. Don't try that one on me. You're the brave one out of the two of us."_

"_I was in love with you!" she shouted, "I was so in love with you it hurt! I wasn't prepared for a child, I didn't know what to do! What would have happened when I told you? I didn't know! It was one drunken night!"_

"_Nice to know you thought I'd abandon you," he muttered._

"_That's not what I meant!" she shouted._

_He shrugged half-heartedly, "It doesn't matter now. You married somebody else." All other sound on the show, even background noise and music faded._

"_**..And a lie is still a lie, no matter how old it is…"**_

Elizabeth scrambled into a sitting position, eyes wide, as footage of her and John kissing outside the theatre suddenly ran across the screen, "…Oh…my god…" she uttered.

John could do nothing but stare.

"_How would you describe your relationship with John Sheppard?" Aimee asked, camera on Elizabeth._

_The Elizabeth on screen hesitated for a moment, almost uncertain, "…I wouldn't exactly say we have a 'relationship'…"_

_The scene changed again, to one they had desperately hoped hadn't been caught on camera._

"…_secretly pursuing…" John frowned._

"_Something?" she smiled and tilted her head._

"_With Elizabeth Weir," he finished, kissing her, "…Though she claims we have no relationship…"_

_Elizabeth kissed him hungrily, a grip on his shirt, "…We don't have a relationship," she insisted, voice sounding cold._

"_We just have-"_

"_Something," she finished._

"_Something'll do for now," he kissed her again._

_Aimee's voice was heard again, "How do you get on with Elizabeth? How would you describe your relationship?"_

_John seemed to consider the question for a second, "I think we get on well. She's a very talented actress and I think we work well together. 'Relationship' has too many meanings to describe anything between us…we work together…that's it…"_

"Oh god…" Elizabeth repeated, one hand over her mouth.

"Elizabeth-" John reached for her.

She twitched and shrugged him away, almost violently, "No," she snapped.

_More footage, this time of them on the back steps of the theatre, completely involved in each other and completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched._

"_Relationship does indeed have many meanings. But does on-screen chemistry ever spill over into something more between colleagues? We've seen it in Hollywood, perhaps its time for a London romance between some of our top stars. Seems to me our two leads have their wires crossed. But who are we to judge what a relationship is? Maybe it's entirely professional. Maybe this is a way of working. Let's see what some of the rest of the cast think of their co-stars…"_

Elizabeth snatched the remote from the couch and pointed it angrily in the direction of the TV, before she threw the control at the screen, "Damnit!"

"Why did she do this? She has to have had a reason. Don't you want to find out?" John tried to string together a coherent sentence and ended up with a string of questions instead.

"No! I don't know!" she snatched the throw from the couch and wrapped it round herself. She caught sight of his trousers on the floor, "For god's sake, put some clothes on!" she shouted, running a hand through her hair, confused, betrayed and with no idea what to do with herself. Or him.

"She can't have done it to trash us," he started to retrieve his clothes from the floor.

"I don't know why she did this, but we're ruined," she muttered, agitated.

"Why would she do this to ruin either of us?" John demanded as he did up his belt.

"I have no idea," she started to pace, "I don't know. Its our opening night tomorrow. They're not going to be talking about the play, they're going to be talking about us…about us…kissing on those steps! Kissing everywhere else!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"We're entitled to a personal life, a relationship-"

"We don't have a relationship!" she angrily retorted as an instant defence.

He paused in buttoning his shirt and managed to glaze his eyes over in time to hide the hurt, "If there's one thing you've made clear, its that."

"Don't give me that. 'Relationship' has too many meanings," she repeated, "You said it, not me."

"Because I'm not supposed to protect us from the media, of course, next time I'll be completely honest!" John replied, gesticulating wildly.

"Don't you get it? Don't you understand? That's us there, us! The real us! Not some role, not some character…ruined…I don't want people to see me! I want to be safe and choose what people see and not have to worry about…" she turned away from him, "…God, why did she do this…?"

"…Maybe because she knows you can't be an actress all your life…" John uttered.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and shut away the frantic beating of her heart, the part of her that knew he was right. That he could see straight through her, that he was good for her, someone she could risk not wearing a mask with, "…Get out…" she whispered.

"Eliza-"

"Leave, John, now," she insisted, voice quiet.

"…So that's it?" he asked. John took a step toward her, "Who is this now, Elizabeth? Media face? Stage heart? Guess we were both right," he headed for the door, "Relationship is too complicated a word for actors to handle…" he paused when he reached it, "…It's a shame I thought more of you than that…I guess I really did never see you at all," John didn't bother slamming the door, and merely closed it quietly behind him.

He didn't see her bring a fist up to her mouth to try and silence the sob that escaped her.


	17. Chapter 17

She hadn't wanted to get out of bed that morning. Well, had she been in her bed. Elizabeth had finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, curled up on her sofa. She wasn't sure which was worse – that she had behaved so badly to John, or that whatever…relationship…no, they had decided that wasn't the word…whatever it was they had, had been broadcast on the BBC for all to see. She had been trying to ignore her worry about what reaction she would get from the cast in the morning. It was Carson and Rodney's reactions she was most worried about, as the two of were 'secretly' protective of her the most. But that was nothing compared to what she feared from the media, perhaps not fear for herself, but that she would be taking attention away from the play…and on its opening night! She had no idea how John would react if he was pounced on by an interviewer.

At a quarter to nine that morning, as she ran up the back steps to the theatre, some of her fears were confirmed.

"Ms Weir!"

"Elizabeth Weir?"

"I'm from the Arts channel and I-"

Elizabeth stopped dead and turned round almost in slow motion, eyes cold, "Whatever it is you are here for, I have no comment to make," she whipped back round and continued up the steps.

"Do you deny that you are involved with your leading man?"

"Did you know John Sheppard previously to this production?"

"Is it true that it was your own sister who-"

"I have no comment," she insisted, before she yanked the heavy doors open and vanished inside. She had opened them with such force that she almost stumbled over, grateful when a hand reached out to steady her. Elizabeth looked up to find she had nearly crashed into Ronon.

"Ronon, I'm sorry," she began.

"Don't apologise," he shook his head, "I already told those guys where to go in no uncertain terms. Several times. I knew they weren't gone," he muttered a curse.

"Thank you anyway," she answered quietly, as she headed into the corridors of backstage.

Ronon considered asking how she was doing, but realised he had no idea what words of comfort he could offer if she replied. She was still as much of a mystery to him as when he had first met her. So he watched her go, taking only the sadness in her eyes as evidence, then turned to decidedly savage the reporters lurking outside.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth pushed aside another set of double doors, blinking against the bright light of the white corridors. She continued to curse herself for her timing. A wonderful time to be so tired she felt sick and feeling so sick with worry anyway all she wanted to do was hide away for a while until she could make some form of recovery. Critics would all be out for their opening night. She could already see the damning reports in her mind. She closed her eyes briefly, letting her shoulders slump as she slowly opened the door to her dressing room. Reaching for the light switch, she realised the lights were already on, and a smaller figure than she was seated at the back of the room, eyes downcast, waiting for her, as if they'd given up already.

"…Hello, Lizzie."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and straightened her shoulders. A thousand exclamations and demands raced across her mind, only one escaping, "Why?"

Aimee glared defiantly back at her, "Not for any of the spiteful reasons you must be thinking."

"I trusted you. I left our fate in your hands and this is how you repay me? If I had kicked up enough of a fuss, you wouldn't have got anywhere near this theatre. I trusted you…and this, this…" she shook her head, "I can't even begin to think why you did this. You're my sister, Aimee. My _sister!"_

She stood up, "Yes, got it in one. I'm your sister and I'm sick to death of seeing this giant charade of yours you call a life."

"How dare-"

"Elizabeth never hurts, she never bleeds, she never cries. Not that she'll let anyone see anyway. Leave her in a room with anyone, even her family, and she'll give the performance of her life. Did Simon know you, Lizzie? Did you cry in front of him? I doubt it. What about the others? What about the time you came home from high school and told us Billy had dumped you? Some childish game you called it. Thought nobody heard you crying in your room later!" Aimee exclaimed, eyes wide, "You wouldn't even tell me the truth!"

Elizabeth folded her arms, "And what truth would that be?"

"…Don't kid yourself. Yes, I saw you and John. No, it wasn't the first time, as you know. God, I've never seen you kiss anybody as passionately as you did him, and before you say anything, that includes the time I walked in on you and Simon in the kitchen last year. You call that nothing! Half of us out there would kill to have 'nothing' with someone!" she snapped.

"It was my choice, I don't have to tell you or anyone everything or anything. It was my business, not yours and certainly not the British nation's!"

"You're right, it was and is your business, why don't you acknowledge it?" Aimee shot back.

That threw her right off, "Excuse me?"

"'Don't have a relationship'," she repeated, "If that isn't a relationship you have there with John Sheppard, what is? Would it kill you to be honest? Do you love him? Are you in love with him? Does he make you laugh? What? Yeah, it might hurt to think about it, but how about being human for once and not someone written down on paper!"

"You don't know anything," Elizabeth stated.

"I know the Lizzie I grew up with is nearly gone. She started to vanish in her twenties and she's nearly gone now. The great stage has taken her away from all of us. Why can't you give yourself a break?" Aimee answered, softly, "You're so damned compassionate toward everyone else, you care so damned much, why not care how you feel? You remember when you came home from university once and you saw that little boy run over Mitzy with his bike? He was crying his eyes out and you gave him a hug; he'd just seriously injured _your_ cat and there you were comforting _him_! Everyone loves you and you can't even let them! Are you just playing with them, do you really love us as much as you say?"

She stared at the ground, "Its my choice what I let people see."

"You don't let people see anything anymore. And for people to still adore you as much as they do, that's saying something. What do you think they'd do if they saw the real you? If they saw you cry and hurt like everyone else? I'm sorry, but you aren't _that _good. People _know_ you have a good heart. I just want people to know you're capable of more than they see on that stage. And if I were an actress, I want the same," Aimee took a step back, turning away as she ran a shaking hand through her hair.

"And If I don't want them to?" Elizabeth uttered.

Her little sister shook her head, glancing back over her shoulder, "Then you're more of a fool than I thought," she claimed her small bag from the floor, halting, "…I love you, Lizzie. God knows its hurt to often enough, but I do. If I thought you didn't think the same then I wouldn't bother trying to explain myself. I'd let you think I did this for some spiteful, jealous reason," she began to walk past her, "…What will you do if he tells you he loves you?" she asked, "…Hold back until you're not afraid anymore? You have to feel something for him. Something has to be true. Otherwise why would you hate me so much for revealing you might just love someone?" Aimee opened the door and slipped quietly through it, shutting it gently behind her.

Elizabeth sank into the nearest chair, unseeing and beyond exhausted.

* * *

"Why don't you like Mark's girlfriend, Mum?" Sora nearly tripped over the edge of the long skirt she wore, cursing under her breath, using a word Elizabeth was sure her mother would be shocked to know her daughter knew. The girl shot an apologetic glance in Caldwell's direction, fully expecting to be shouted at, and a little hesitant when he did nothing but nod. Maybe another inch needed to be taken off the hem of her costume skirt for that scene. 

"Whatever do you mean? Of course I like her," Elizabeth replied, gazing over the heads of where the audience would be seated, dismissing the question as she had always played it.

"No you don't, you look at her like you looked at my teacher when she said I was…di…dis…ru…disruptive!" Sora grinned, "I'm not disruptive."

"No, you aren't," she replied, "and of course I like Marina, Harmony, I just don't know her that well yet."

"Mark told me he might ask her to marry him," Sora smiled, "That'd be nice."

Elizabeth halted and stared down at her stage-daughter, "He did?"

"Uh-huh," the little girl nodded as something caught her eye and she ran off-stage ahead of her 'mother'.

Elizabeth hesitated in the centre of the stage, making eye contact with an imaginary audience member, "…He never told me…" she uttered, before she broke into a run after Sora. In the wings, she made eye contact with no-one, knowing they were all waiting for some form of explanation. Only Sora and her understudy seemed oblivious.

"Alright, that's an hour's lunch break and no more! You're doing good, let's let them see that tonight! Wardrobe, somebody please doing something about Miss Sora's skirt!"

A young woman backstage took the skirt from Sora as she stepped out of it, leaving her in jeans. The girl looked up at Elizabeth as she tried to make an escape, "Ms Weir?"

She glanced back, "Yes? And I've told you before, Sora, its Elizabeth."

"Yes, miss," she nodded, "Heda and I were wondering if you'd eat lunch with us…"

Hedastood beside her, shy and silent.

Elizabeth sighed and closed her eyes. She shouldn't take her mood out on the children. She turned, smile in place, "Of course. Will the theatre restaurant be okay?"

Hedanodded, "We eat there most days."

"Then let's go," she held out her hands, and her smile was genuine as the girls ran to and linked hands with her, walking by her side.

* * *

"Are you going to ask her, or am I?" Rodney demanded of Carson. 

His companion shrugged, sighing, "Its her business. You know how she was before. And none of us are going to appreciate a rift on our opening night, least of all her."

"A rift? A rift? There's already a rift! All of us want some answers, some of us should try and get some!"

"Aye, all of us would like to know what's going on, but making demands of her is going to get us nowhere. Leave her be. Let her deal with whatever's going on in her own way. We know nothing. Only what was on the TV last night."

"I think it was pretty clear."

"And they haven't spoken a word to each other today," Carson reminded him.

"I'll kill him. I'll actually kill him," Rodney muttered.

"If you want a meeting with the floor, go right ahead…"

Perched high above them, dealing with an uncooperative spotlight, Zelenka sighed, "If you speak any louder then she will hear you and both of you will have 'a meeting with the floor'…"

Rodney looked up, "Very funny Zelenka. Charming."

He narrowed his eyes, "Tell me I'm wrong," he shrugged.

Carson and McKay exchanged a rather helpless glance before they wandered in separate directions.

* * *

Elizabeth spent most of her lunch break desperately trying not to make eye contact with John, who sat three tables away. Both the girls seemed completely oblivious, chatting away with her in an animated manner, laughing and joking. She smiled in the appropriate places and actually laughed honestly a few times, but was forever distracted by John's presence. That, and the thought that she was sure people were watching them.  
Hedasearched for the location of the nearest clock, dark eyes widening as she found it, "I'm sorry, I told make-up I'd be back early. They want to try another foundation on me. The last one was painful to wear…" she stood up, apologising again, "Good luck tonight if I don't see you before, Ms Weir," she bobbed her head. 

"Hey, wait up, I want to get my skirt back," Sora began to follow her, "Thank you for sitting with us," she smiled at Elizabeth, "I'll see you in a few minutes. Bye!" she ran after Heda

No sooner were they out of sight, than John stood up and moved to sit opposite her before she could move, "We need to talk."

She shook her head and stared at the table-top, "John, not now, we have work-"

"We have another ten minutes and yes, now, Elizabeth," he insisted.

"We open tonight. I am dead on my feet, my reputation, _our_ reputation is ruined, my sister has made a fool of me and the critics are going to out to damn us if only to detract from the documentary. Not now," she replied, voice almost weak.

"Welcome to the club," John snapped, unnecessarily harsh, "You think I got any sleep last night either?" he sighed and looked away, "…Alright," he looked back at her, "Answer me one thing."

Elizabeth gazed back at him for a long moment before she nodded.

"Did you mean it? Any of it? Or was it just sex? Because I swear I heard you utter something I bet you don't remember last night."

Mind racing and heart not far behind, all she could do was stare, in a mild state of panic. Could she try and put everything right in a matter of words? Did she even want to?

She was silent too long.

"…I'll take that as a no…" John said softly, "Alright then. See you on stage, Ms Weir. If you aren't already on it," he walked away.

When she heard the restaurant doors swing shut, she twitched. About to reach for her drink, her memory decided to provide what she presumed he had been talking about, making her freeze.

"…_Love…love you…oh god…"_

Oh god indeed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes**: Final chapter. It doesn't really end here and there will be one shots or other small multi-chap fics. They'll be at LJ or on Catch Me Kiss Again (which has moved to my own domain) as I guess people won't want to be bothered with them here. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading.

* * *

In the hours before their opening night, Elizabeth proved her worth as a beyond capable actress by somehow managing to portray Rose in the way both she and their director wanted _and_ finding herself able of a constant stream of thoughts concentrated on 'the relationship' she claimed to oblivious to between herself and John. 

Unfortunately it was mostly comprised of the words 'oh god' repeated over and over in a loop.

So. She had uttered the words 'love' and 'you' in the same sentence and clearly they had been directed at him. She briefly wondered if it still counted if you didn't place the word 'I' in front of said words. Or, erm…cried out words. Forcing herself to think back, she vaguely remembered a stunned and possibly confused look in his eyes for a moment, but neither of them had been genuinely interested in discussing it at the time, having been rather…distracted.

_Had_ she meant it? She didn't know. She honestly didn't know. At the time she hadn't been thinking straight. How was she expected to be when he had been…god she hated how she still wanted him. But it wasn't just that. She wanted to spend time with him, she wanted to frighten him and be so so scared that she was afraid they were running away with themselves. Elizabeth had enjoyed being with him, even if he constantly kept her guessing and halting her own defensive behaviour at every turn. She liked John. She was sure she would have been friends with him even if there was nothing else. Good friends. He was a mystery. Like she knew she was to him. It just hurt so damn much to actually get anywhere beneath the surface…

They ran through the scenes together as if they were on auto-pilot. Barely thinking anything coherent, laughing and joking, screaming and crying as was required of them. Some of it was real, some of it was acting. Neither knew which was which.

* * *

She wasn't sure how the hours had flown by, but before she knew it, Elizabeth was waiting just off-stage, full make-up and costume in place. She whispered good-luck to the two children playing young Rose and Mark before they ran on, mid fight. Elizabeth stood with her eyes closed, absolutely still, listening to the echoing dialogue in the awing silence theatre. In a few short moments she would have to throw herself out onto the stage and try conning an audience into thinking not only that she was somebody else, but that she _was_ the best and _everything_ was fine. That she didn't have the dull beginnings of a headache and her knee wasn't killing her from chasing Sora and Heda through the theatre, laughing like she wasn't sure she was able. That it didn't hurt that she didn't dare look up at John, who stood beside her. As the dialogue between their 'younger selves' drew to a close, she adjusted her skirt and opened her eyes, feeling she looked ridiculous with her hair split into two ragged bunches, let alone the god awful colour of the eye shadow she wore. So she thought anyway. 

John happened to think she looked rather…oh she'd kill him if he ever said it…cute.

He had no idea what to do. He thought he knew her on some level. Had thought he knew her quite well, despite what she thought and what she projected. He knew he had been unfair, that he wasn't willing to let her see everything in him that he claimed to see in her…but…that was different. Totally different story. He wasn't the one pushing her away. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was the perfect actress. He hated that he still hoped she wasn't. That she had been terrified and honest and, as she put it, as scared of him as he was of her.

He hated that she could still smile at him and make everything seem right with the world.

John held out his arm to her, "Shall we?"

She looped her arm through his and nodded, "Let's," Elizabeth replied, as they broke into a brief run that turned into a near fall as they entered the stage, "Mark! Mark, you're crazy! Stop, we're going to fall!"

"Guess you're right. Not like I can catch you like when we were kids anymore," he answered, taunting her.

"Just what are you implying?" Elizabeth rested her hands on her hips.

"…Lacking hand-eye co-ordination?" he tried.

She shot him a smile, "Nicely saved, Mr Fynn."

"Only one in the world," John grinned. He tilted his head and smiled fondly down at her, "Love you, Rosie."

"Love you too," she smiled brightly, "How can you not love a man who rescued you from spiders when you were ten?" the smile faded slightly, "We're getting old, Mark. Let's be kids again. Race you to my place!" she set off and ran from the stage, laughing.

He hesitated, remaining where he was, kicking an imaginary stone along the ground. John sighed and twitched his shoulders, "…I suppose I should be happy with any kind of love from you…" he said softly. John wandered off stage at a sedate pace, "Slow down, Rose, you really are making me feel old…"

Elizabeth watched as he walked right past her in the wings, looking away when he turned to look back at her. Feeling that she had least owed him the courtesy of looking him in the eye, she glanced back up to see he hadn't taken his eyes off her. She frowned slightly, unable to read the look on his face at all. Well…he did assume that she had been using him. Didn't think that she could possibly…

"Smile, Elizabeth," he implored, quietly.

Something in his tone somehow meant she couldn't refuse. No matter how much she wanted to. She met his gaze again and offered him a shaky smile, hesitant.

"…There you are…" John uttered, as if transfixed.

She would have replied, said anything to keep him there, even if she let out a stream of incoherent babble. Which, as a former diplomat, she was terrified of doing. Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, then shut it instantly as they both raced off to wardrobe.

* * *

Half an hour into the play found Teyla on the back steps, in costume and fully made-up, sneaking a breath of fresh air for the twenty minutes she wasn't needed. She sat on the top step, glaring down the nearby alley at a lurking film crew, as if she could kill them where they stood. 

Ronon stood by the door, "Know how you feel," he muttered.

"They do not belong here," she stated.

"Apparently they do. According to the laws of media," Ronon didn't sound amused.

"They are determined to hate us. And they are determined to uncover more on both Elizabeth and John."

"If it would do any good, I'd have harmed them already," he swore.

"I as well," Teyla nodded, "We must not do more damage," she stood up, straightening her long skirt and playing absently with the bangles on her wrist, "I believed the story line of this play to be…interesting. I did not expect lives to follow any sort of the same pattern," she laughed bitterly, "They say Mary is Mark's half sister. That they were never stable. That Mark loves Rose, she loves him, but she won't have him. That she lies to her only daughter, that Ben loves Mary and has never done anything about it…" she glanced upward, running a hand through her set hair, "We are all liars, Ronon. We are all false and we are all scared to death," she strode past him and yanked the door open.

"Teyla," he grabbed her arm. Ronon blinked and stared back at her when she turned to meet his gaze, "…Good luck."

She nodded, "…Thank you. I believe we all need it."

* * *

Elizabeth stared at the floor of the stage, glad that she could hide her fears in her character, that a slight slip-up wouldn't be considered a mistake on her part. She looked up and into John's eyes for a moment, hating the scene for everything it was, "We can't do this…we're just going round in circles, always circles. I can't lose you. And if we continue like this, one day we'll never speak to each other again…" Elizabeth's voice faltered a little, "…It hurts…it hurts and I can't trust myself…not when I'm with you…" 

"And I can't trust myself when I'm _not_ with you," John answered, gazing at her, not quite making eye contact.

"That's not my problem…" she answered in what she hoped was a defiant manner.

He started to advance toward her, "…Maybe so…" he gripped her shoulders, "…but I fell in love with my best friend…you _wanted_ it too, and that _is_ your problem…" he stopped, the lines between Rose and Elizabeth blurring. John shook his head slightly and tilted her head back to meet him, lowering his lips to hers, "…Tell me you don't love me…and I'll leave…"

Eyes glazed over, she was glad nobody could see her expression entirely. Detachment was the only way she could handle it. She forced her voice to comply with her demands, going from hesitantly gently to cold and defiant, "…I _don't_ love you," she replied.

John released her, wishing he could shake her a moment for effect, but didn't trust himself. He exhaled sharply and turned from her, hands curling into fists as he strode from the stage.

Elizabeth gazed after him for a moment before she unwillingly and unconsciously mimicked her actions from the night the documentary was aired. She brought one fist to her mouth and let out a heart wrenching sob as the lights went down. It took her a second longer than usual to react, but she forced herself to move, and ran off the stage in the cover of darkness.

"Elizabeth!"

She jumped and nearly struck out at the figure that grabbed her arm. She recognised Carson's voice and then his face as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, "Carson, what's wrong?" she asked, almost panicked.

"Listen to me, love," he began, voice soft, "If ye love the man, none of us are against you. Who cares what the media might think? I've seen you happier these past few weeks than I've seen ye in a good while. You can'nae fake that. He'll only be here for four months. You want to spend that time like those last two weeks of performances with Simon? You're driven by emotion, lass, let yourself in on it…" he held her to him for a second before he vanished into the wings.

About to head further backstage to claim another change of costume, Elizabeth stopped dead almost as soon as she began as she set eyes on John again. Had he just…heard…had Carson done it deliberately? No, he wouldn't do such a thing. Surely. All she could do was stare until she forced herself to speak, "John…I-"

He shrugged slightly, "Maybe you did mean some of it after all…"

"All-" Elizabeth stopped herself, _'All of it…I think…'_ "All ready for the next scene?" her voice sounded weak even to herself. Damnit, get some control back, she cursed herself.

"Mark Fynn you get down here and talk to me this instant!" Teyla shouted from the stage.

"That's my cue," he smiled faintly at her, a forced smile, and ran out from backstage.

Bessie swore under her breath as she appeared from the maze of wardrobe and make-up, blinking, "God those people are lethal with eye-pencils," she paused, "…We good to go?"

Elizabeth nodded, "When they're finished," she nodded toward the stage.

The younger woman looked everywhere but at her colleague, taking a deep breath as she began to speak, "…I think that man might just love you…" she refused to make eye contact when Elizabeth glared sharply at her, "I found him asleep in his dressing room the other day. Muttered 'Beth' under his breath before I managed to wake him entirely."

"This isn't the time," she snapped, wincing as she heard how harsh she sounded.

"No, it isn't," Bessie replied, unfazed, "and the stage isn't the place for a real-life romance either," she tilted her head as she saw Teyla and John exit on the other side of the stage, "Let's go…" she sighed and plastered a child-like grin on her face before she ran out ahead of Elizabeth.

She was at least thankful that her rather confused and uncomfortable mood suited the scene.

* * *

It was over in a blur. The curtain dropped as she and John engaged in a passionate embrace, one she began as Rose and broke away from as Elizabeth. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, and so buried her head against his neck. She felt him shaking as he tightened his arms around her, from fatigue, stress…something else…she didn't know. 

"…Elizabeth…"

"…I…meant…"

John shook his head, "…Don't say anything neither of can be certain of…" he said softly.

She formed a reply she didn't voice and merely nodded in reluctant agreement.

They both glanced up as the lights dimly began to come back on, and jumped apart, running to either side of the stage before they were caught.

"Rodney! Zelenka! Laura!" Aiden was heard yelling over the sudden riotous applause from the universe, "Get down here! Opening night, come get some cheers before the systems crash and the publicity fails and we have to shut you away somewhere!"

"Oh don't give them ammunition!" Lorne laughed.

Bessie grinned and shook her head, "It's good to be back!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we've got a audience that'd like our presence!" Carson exclaimed from the other side of the stage, laughing with Teyla as she smiled broadly.

"We did it!" she exclaimed.

"You bet your ass we did," Rodney appeared beside them.

"Distasteful use of language," Zelenka muttered, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

"You tell 'em, Radek," Laura smirked.

From opposite sides of the stage, John and Elizabeth seemed strangely detached from the celebrations, smiling as they were hugged, Elizabeth briefly yelping as Rodney chose not only to hug her, but to lift her up and spin her round. John laughed and shoved Aiden and Bessie onto the stage when they almost missed their cue, until only he and Elizabeth remained backstage, gazing across at each other.

They walked out into the light and joined hands as they met, neither quite sure what it meant. The applause only continued as they joined their co-stars, uncertain smiles spreading across their faces.

Elizabeth glanced across at John, who suddenly shot her a brilliant smile. She let herself return it, then looked down at their joined hands. It still hurt. Somewhere deep inside, it hurt. But beneath the confusion and the pain she felt a spark as she looked up at him again, then out at their audience as they took a bow.

She just hoped she was strong enough to one day find out what that spark meant.

**Fin**


End file.
